


The Proposal

by drunkonwriting



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Romance, bigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkonwriting/pseuds/drunkonwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on The Proposal. Kurt is a super uptight music producer from Canada whose work visa has been revoked. Cue Blaine, all-American poster boy from Alaska, who has been Kurt's assistant (or indentured servant, depending on who you ask) for three years and counting. They pretend to get married so that Kurt doesn't have to leave the country, and end up falling in love instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. three years

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the gleeatthemovies bigbang challenge. whenidance made the lovely artwork, as well as a fanmix, which can be found [ **here**](http://www.mediafire.com/?w4xfnnn6ujwb6ev). Some of the dialogue is pulled from  _The Proposal_.

**[](http://pics.livejournal.com/unwritten25/pic/000125ae/)  
The Proposal**

Three years. 1095 days. 2190 cups of coffee, not one spilled.

Until today.

Blaine Anderson swore under his breath. His shirt - _his favorite fucking shirt, the one his grandmother had gotten him, god damnit_ \- was drenched with coffee. With nonfat grande mocha, to be exact. 

Why did it have to be today of all days?

“Artie!” he hissed as he approached the desk. Artie didn’t look up. “Artie!” Not even a twitch. Blaine breathed in heavily. “ARTIE!”

Artie jerked back, almost flying out of his wheelchair. “What?!” he asked, irritation written all over his face.

“Give me your shirt,” Blaine told him, holding out a hand.

A beat.

“Why do you need my shirt?” Artie asked, leaning back in his wheelchair.

Blaine glared at him. “I am _covered in coffee_ ,” he half-yelled, gesturing to his soaked shirt. “Give. Me. Your. Shirt.”

Artie smirked. Blaine was of the opinion that his new promotion had given Artie an unneeded amount of sass.

“How about no?” he asked, looking very pleased with himself.

Blaine took a deep breath. Then another.

“Yankees tickets,” he said. He shoved away the feeling of disappointment. It wasn’t like he would’ve been able to go anyways. “Right behind the batting hill. Top of the line seats. All yours, just for one little shirt.”

Artie considered it.

“Oh, alright,” he said finally. “But I expect those tickets tomorrow, you know.”

Blaine sighed. “Oh yes, I know.”

-

There were a few things that could make every employee in the room turn pale and run for their computer: the click of heeled, expensive boots on linoleum floor, the smell of any Marc Jacobs perfumes, and, of course, the _voice_. 

“Now, _Rachel_ , sweetheart, I know you think doing magazine spreads is a waste of your valuable time, but _Rolling Stone_ can only spread your already wide appeal! It makes you look hip and cool, Rachel, and maybe if you _listened_ to me and didn’t insist on wearing your _hideous_ clothes then we wouldn’t need to do this to revamp your image.” Flick the hair back. “Rachel, honey, if we can’t start widening your appeal, your numbers are going to go down and soon you’ll become nothing more than a second-rate has-been. Is that what you want?” A pause. “I thought so. I’ll call _Rolling Stone_ back and let them know you’re in, darling. I’ll talk to you soon, ta!”

Kurt Hummel stopped in the middle of the room and tucked his phone away. Then he turned slowly on his heel, surveying the dozens of employees who were all very studiously looking at their computers. Kurt smirked - the only sign of approval anyone had ever seen him wear - and turned back again to head towards his office.

Blaine was waiting there in a stainless shirt, a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Good morning,” Blaine said, holding it out to Kurt. “You have a conference call in 30 minutes.”

“Yes, yes, with our newest artist, I know. We need to set up the dates for going into the studio.”

Blaine sighed. “Staff meeting at nine.”

“Did you call . . . .” Kurt frowned. “What’s her name? The one with the ugly ears, you know--”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Janet? Yes, I called her, and I told her if she didn’t have her demo ready on time, she wouldn’t be allowed in the studio. Your immigration lawyers called. They said it’s urgent that they talk to you and they scheduled a meeting--”

Kurt flicked a hand. “Push the meeting back until tomorrow and schedule a press conference.” A brief smirk touched the corner of his mouth. “Rachel’s doing _Rolling Stone_.”

Blaine blinked in surprise. Rachel was notorious for hating magazine shoots - Blaine remembered her telling him once that, as most magazine spreads like to put her in her underwear, she found them degrading and sexist. Getting her to agree to that was, “Impressive,” he finished aloud.

“When I want your praise, I will ask for it,” Kurt said smugly, smirk widening. He lifted his coffee to his mouth and then froze, eyes narrowing. Blaine tensed. 

“And _who_ , exactly, is Jeremiah?” Kurt asked, deceptively mild. “And why does he want me to call him?” He turned the cup so Blaine could see the name and number printed on the side, and raised an eyebrow.

Blaine inwardly raged at Jeremiah for picking _today of all days_ to act on their semi-flirtatious comments over buying the morning coffee. 

“Well,” he said, resigned to his fate, “that was my originally my cup.”

Kurt took another sip, his nose wrinkled thoughtfully. “And you drink grande low-fat mochas with a dash of caramel, hm?”

Blaine shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “It’s like heaven in a cup,” he said, flat and sarcastic.

Kurt’s eyebrow rose further up. “Well, isn’t that a _coincidence_.”

Blaine smiled a little. “Yes, incredibly, it is. I mean, it would be pathetic if I ordered the same coffee as you just in case I spilled your cup.” The phone rang and Blaine picked it up. “This is Mr. Hummel’s office.” He listened for a moment, then grimaced. “Hey, Sandy.”

Kurt suddenly made a waving motion with his hands, eyes still on his cup of coffee. Blaine frowned. “No, apparently we’re heading to your office right now.” He put the phone back down. “Why are we heading to Sandy’s office?”

Blaine didn’t _want_ to go to Sandy’s office. There were _dolls_ in there, and he swore that their eyes followed him. Not to mention Sandy was creepy. And perverted.

Kurt glared at him and didn’t answer, waving him out of the door as he stood up and brushed off his three-piece suit. Blaine rolled his eyes and hurried out, over to his personal terminal right outside of Kurt’s door, pausing to write _THE WITCH IS ON HIS BROOM!_ in the employee messaging system. The reaction was immediate: every employee in the room went white and arranged themselves until they were sitting up straight, staring at their computers in what they hoped was a dedicated and concentrated fashion.

Kurt strode out of his office, boots clicking on the floor, and Blaine followed closely behind at his right shoulder.

“Did you have a chance to listen to that demo I gave you?” he asked quietly.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I listened to the first song, but it didn’t really do anything for me,” he said dismissively. “Too amateur.”

Blaine pursued his lips. “Listen, I’ve listened to a lot of music in my day, and I’m telling you, he’s got real talent--”

“You know, I do think you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill it,” Kurt interrupted as they passed Artie, who was watching them in horror while wearing Blaine’s coffee-stained shirt. “Which is all kinds of pathetic.”

“You could call it inspired,” Blaine offered as they stopped in front of Sandy’s office. 

Kurt gave him a side-look and the corner of his mouth tipped upwards. “It would be more inspiring if you didn’t spill it at all,” he said and then swept into Sandy’s office.

Blaine rolled his eyes and followed Kurt inside. He couldn’t stop a small shudder - Sandy’s dolls were _alive_ , and Blaine would go to his grave swearing on it. Their eyes followed him and it was _creepy_. Just like Sandy, actually.

“Kurt, my darling,” Sandy said, standing and moving around his desk. He was wearing a pink tie that had kittens on it. Blaine was caught between horror and amusement. “To what do I owe this impromptu  visit?”

“I talked to Rachel, Sandy,” Kurt said, very calm. Blaine caught the way Sandy tensed up, which meant Kurt did too. “She’s doing _Rolling Stone_.”

“She is?” Sandy said, all fake enthusiasm. “Well, I am very impressed! She completely rebuffed my attempts to get her to agree last week when I talked to her--”

“See, that’s the thing, Sandy,” Kurt interrupted, eyes narrowing in a way that meant he was moving in for a kill. Blaine stepped back out of his line of fire. He needed Kurt to approve of him at the end of the day, after all. “Rachel doesn’t remember having that phone conversation.”

Sandy’s fake surprise was fairly good - Blaine wondered if he’d ever considered a career in acting. It would be a wise move for him, after what Kurt was about to do.

“What? Maybe she’s just forgotten, after all, she gets so many phone calls in a day--”

“No, she was quite sure,” Kurt said, a sickeningly sweet smile spreading across his face. Blaine shuddered. That smile meant nothing good. “In fact, she was quite enthusiastic about the fact that, despite being her primary producer, she hasn’t spoken to you in _months_.”

Sandy swallowed hard. Blaine wanted to feel sympathy for him, but Sandy was an obnoxious creep 75% of the time, so it was really hard to. Still, Blaine made the attempt. 

“Now, Sandy, Rachel Berry is a constant pain in my ass, but she’s a marvelous singer and she is a huge asset to our company. So that fact that you’ve neglected her? Makes me _very unhappy_.” 

Kurt was doing the evil-villain thing. The thing where instead of yelling to express his anger, he whispered it instead. Blaine thought it was super effective. It was definitely way scarier than Kurt yelling, because he got all white-faced and narrow-eyed and _intense_.

“Kurt, listen--” Sandy tried to say, sweat glistening at his temple as his face lost its color.

“No, Sandy, _you listen_. Today is your last day. Pack up your desk and _leave_.”

Silence. Then: “ _What_?” Sandy yelled with outrage. “You can’t _fire_ me, I’m a senior member of this company--”

Kurt sneered. “Watch me. You’re useless fat that I need to trim off, and since you’ve just proved to me how utterly inept and inadequate you are, I see no reason to put off the inevitable. You’re gone, Sandy. I expect you out of this office in no less than two hours.”

With that, Kurt turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, Blaine following on his heels. 

“Is he following us?” Kurt asked out of the corner of his mouth. Blaine glanced over his shoulder to see Sandy storming after them.

“Right behind,” he murmured back. “He’s got crazy eyes.”

Kurt sighed. “Don’t do it, Sandy,” he murmured, more to himself. “Don’t--”

“You can’t _do this to me_ , you poisonous _bitch_!” There was a gasp among the coworkers. Everyone had _thought_ it, of course, but no one actually said the words to Kurt’s _face_ for fear of unemployment or death. “You can’t just throw me out! You don’t have the right to get rid of me just because you’re threatened by my position!”

“Sandy, you seem to misunderstand--” Kurt started, eyes narrowing.

“Just because you have no _semblance_ of a life outside of this office doesn’t mean you have the right to treat the rest of us like your slaves, _Hummel_. I won’t stand for it! I am a senior member of this company!”

Kurt took a deep breath and turned around. “Sandy,” he said calmly. “If you aren’t out of this office within the next twenty minutes, I will have security personally escort you out and Blaine here,” Blaine’s elbow got a pat, “will record the entire thing on his iPhone and post it to youtube.” Kurt’s smile was sweet and sharp. “You can’t imagine the amount of trouble that video will cause when you try and find another job.”

Sandy went white. “You can’t do this,” he said, more desperate and less angry. “I’ve done a lot of good for this company--”

“No, Sandy, you haven’t,” Kurt interrupted. “You’ve caused nothing but problems for me since I became producer and I’m done with you. Get your belongings and get out.”

Sandy stared at Kurt, then muttered an oath under his breath. “You’re going to die alone and unloved and your body will be eaten by _cats_ ,” he said viciously, before turning on his heel in a dramatic fashion and storming out.

The entire room was silent, waiting for Kurt’s reaction. Blaine glanced at Kurt’s face and frowned when he saw the blankness there. Kurt was very good at controlling his facial expressions, but Blaine was so used to his tiny tics and gestures that seeing his face without them at all was more disturbing than seeing Kurt visibly upset. 

“Kurt?” he asked tentatively. 

Kurt snapped out of it. “Well, that’s one less problem I have to deal with,” he said briskly, turning to go. Blaine followed closely behind, as always. “Blaine, we have meetings to deal with today and then we need to go over the contract with our new artist that we’re signing Monday over the weekend--”

Blaine’s heart sank. “This weekend?” he asked. Maybe Kurt would tell him he’d misspoke and that he meant _next_ weekend.

Kurt frowned at him. “Yes, _this_ weekend. Why, have plans?”

Blaine frowned. “No, it’s just--it’s my grandma’s 90th birthday and I was going to go home--” Kurt rolled his eyes and hurried in to his office before Blaine could finish. Blaine sighed. “Never mind, I’ll just cancel it,” he muttered. “Not like they’re not used to that anyways.”

-

Blaine leaned over the phone, covering it with his hand and hoping that Kurt wouldn’t come out in the next five minutes.

“Yeah, Mom, I _know_ it’s grandma’s birthday, but I can’t make it, I’m working.”

“Blaine, your grandmother was very excited to see you,” his mother said, sounding exasperated. “Can’t you ask it off? Get someone to cover for you?”

“No, no, I can’t,” Blaine answered, remembering with vivid clarity the one time he’d ever tried to ask off work. Kurt’s responding glare had been fearsome to behold. “Look, I’ll make it up to her, alright? I’ll come up next weekend.”

“You say that, Blaine, but you _won’t_. You’ll get stuck in your job again! And this is a big day and your father is _not_ going to be happy when you aren’t there--”

“Yes, I know dad will be angry--” Blaine cut himself off as he heard the click of boots on the floor, approaching him and started saying instead, “And we take submissions very seriously here, miss, so you’ll need to go through the proper channels.”

“Blaine, what--”

“Goodbye,” Blaine said hurriedly and hung up the phone. He’d explain to her later, he thought as he turned his chair to look up at Kurt, who was staring down at him, one eyebrow tipped upwards with amusement.

“That your family?” he asked casually.

Blaine thought about lying, then decided it wasn’t worth it. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Kurt’s mouth quirked. “They tell you to quit?” he asked.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Every single day,” he answered. 

Kurt’s mouth was threatening to split into a grin. Blaine was a little weirded out by that, so he quickly added, “Schue and Emma want to see you in their office.”

Kurt’s mouth turned downwards again, to Blaine’s relief. Kurt was good-looking normally - all pale, sharp features and perfectly coiffed hair - but he looked absolutely breathtaking when he smiled. Blaine had only seen him do it twice in the entire three years they’d known each other. More than that, Blaine was always in danger of falling in love with Kurt if he smiled - when he scowled and smirked as he usually did, it was easier to remember that he had a horrendous personality. 

“Come and get me in ten minutes with an emergency,” Kurt said, sighing. “We have work to do.”

Blaine saluted. “Yessir,” he muttered sarcastically as he went back to his computer.

-

Kurt rolled his eyes as he knocked sharply on William and Emma’s door. They were his immigration lawyers, some of the best in the business, but they always insisted on meetings at the most _inconvenient_ of times. And they made the most outrageous demands of him! 

“Come in, come in!”

Kurt pushed open the door and strode in, smiling as brightly as he could at William and Emma, who were both standing. He tried not to wince at the lemon yellow dress Emma was wearing that did nothing for her complexion, or William’s obnoxiously orange tie. 

“What can I do for you two?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not getting a second raise, am I?” 

William’s eyebrows shot up, but Emma answered, a gentle smile on her face, “No, no, that’s not it. Congratulations on getting Rachel to do _Rolling Stone_ , however.” She exchanged a look with William. “No, this is about your visa.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “What is it? Everything checked out, didn’t it?”

“Kurt,” William said, leaning back against his desk, “do you remember when we told you _not_ to go to Mexico to produce for Santana Lopez because your visa application was still being processed?”

Kurt frowned. “Well, yes, but then we would have lost her to the ball of slime that is Jacob Ben Israel and that would have been a travesty of magnificent proportions. I had to go. And you know I was right to - she’s a star on the rise. Every music critic in the country is kissing her ass.”

William sighed heavily. Emma took over for him, saying, “What Will’s trying to say, Kurt, is that because you went to Mexico . . . well . . . your visa application has been denied.”

“And,” William added, “you are being deported.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped and his heart froze. “Deported?” he stuttered, something he hadn’t done since he was a child. “What do you mean, _deported_?”

William rubbed his eyes. “I’m really sorry about this, Kurt, I _am_. You’re one of the best producers we’ve ever had and you’ve brought in so many great artists. But we don’t have a choice in this. You can reapply for the visa, but you need to leave the country for at least a year.”

Kurt’s heart was beating fast and hard in his throat. “For God’s sake,” he cried, “it’s not like I’m even an immigrant! I’m from _Canada_!” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Well, I’m pretty sure I can manage everything from video conferencing from Toronto--”

“Kurt,” Emma interjected gently, “when your visa has been denied, you can’t work for an American company any more. I’m sorry, but you’re fired, for now. As soon as you’re a citizen again, we can rehire you.”

“But--the company--” Kurt sputtered.

“We’re putting Sandy Ryerson in charge while you’re away,” William broke in.

“The guy I just _fired_?” Kurt exclaimed, appalled. “That idiot will ruin this company a month in, two if he actually proves to have a speck of competence hidden in his horribly off the rack suits. You’re putting _him_ in charge?”

Emma sighed. “He’s the only one with enough experience, Kurt,” she explained. “It’ll only be while you’re out of the country. As soon as you’re back, you’re more than welcome to have your job back.”

There was a knock on the door. All three of them turned to see Blaine popping his head in. Blaine blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden attention, but pulled together as he stepped inside of the room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re having a crisis downstairs,” he said. “If I could steal Kurt from you . . . .?”

Kurt looked at Blaine and a terrible, horrible idea occurred to him. Blaine was gay. Blaine was _gay_ and his _minion_ and engaged immigrants could stay in America because they were marrying an American citizen--

“Blaine, come here,” Kurt said before he could think this through more. “Emma, William, I think it’s time we told you the truth.”

“The--” Blaine started, looking confused.

Kurt cut over him, announcing, “Blaine and I are engaged.”

Silence. 

Blaine’s jaw dropped. “Wha--”

“Really?” Emma asked skeptically, her eyes darting over to Blaine’s gobsmacked expression. 

Kurt took Blaine’s arm and tucked it into his elbow, beaming as bright and fake as he could. “Really!” he exclaimed. “We figured since New York finally allows it, why not, right?”

“Isn’t he your secretary?” William asked.

Kurt tensed. “Well it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries, would it, William? Remember April?” 

Emma shot William a glare as William turned bright red and cleared his throat. “Of course, of course. So! Married, huh?”

“Yes,” Kurt agreed. “There was just an attraction that couldn’t be denied, right, Blaine?”

Blaine jumped. “Um--”

“We’re too in love to help ourselves,” Kurt finished for him.

“Uh-huh,” William said, looking from Kurt’s beaming face to Blaine’s confused expression. “Alright then. Well. Make it legal, Kurt. Get down to the immigration office tomorrow and explain the whole thing.”

“Of course,” Kurt said, starting to pull Blaine to the door. Blaine followed compliantly, still apparently muddled from his confusion. His back to Emma and William, Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine was _not_ the best at thinking on his feet in tricky situations.

“And Kurt?” Emma called. Kurt stopped, his back tensing, and turned. Emma, however, was smiling. “Be sure to invite us to the wedding, okay?”

Kurt relaxed. “Of course!” he answered cheerily and dragged Blaine out of there.


	2. ask me nicely

“I _don’t understand what’s going on_ ,” Blaine hissed as Kurt dragged him down the hallway, into his office. “Why are we-- _what_ is happening--”

“They were going to deport me,” Kurt said, sitting down at his desk and burying his face in his hands. “Because I went to Mexico to sign Santana when my visa was being processed.”

“Fuck,” Blaine breathed. “I _knew_ that was going to come back and bite us in the ass, I _knew_ it--”

“Well it has,” Kurt said, lifting his head and glaring at Blaine. “And the only way I’m going to be able to stay here and keep my job is if you pretend to be my husband, got it?”

“No _way_ ,” Blaine exclaimed. “Kurt, you can’t seriously expect--”

“It’s as much for your good as it is mine,” Kurt said, shrugging. 

“And _how_ is that?” Blaine asked, crossing his arms.

“They were going to replace me with _Sandy_ , Blaine,” Kurt explained, shuddering at the thought of it. “ _Sandy_. And as soon as he was in charge, you know what he’d do? He’d _fire_ you because you’re much too close to me.” Kurt leaned forward, going in for the kill, “Think about it, Blaine. All those late nights, all those coffee orders, all your missed family parties . . . All down the drain.”

Blaine paled. Kurt smirked - he had Blaine exactly where he wanted him now. There was no way Blaine would give up all the hard work he’d put into being Kurt’s secretary. 

“Don’t worry, as soon as the allotted time is over, we can get a nice and quick divorce,” Kurt said. He watched Blaine’s face closely. “I hope you weren’t waiting on someone special?”

“N-no!” Blaine stammered. “No, but--this is _illegal_ , Kurt--”

Kurt waved a hand. “They’re looking for terrorists, not music producers. So, we have a deal? Because if I go down, Anderson, you’re going down with me, and all your dreams of touching millions of lives with music are down the drain. Right now, your wagon is hitched to mine, understood?”

Blaine looked like he wanted to protest, but he thought better of it. Kurt approved. He’d always thought Blaine had a better brain than he showed sometimes. 

“Alright,” Blaine agreed reluctantly. “But if we get arrested and thrown in jail, I’m blaming you.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.

-

There was a _line_ that stretched back to the _doors_. That was not acceptable.

“Excuse me,” Kurt said as he cut all the way to the front, Blaine hurrying at his heels and apologizing.

“Kurt, you can’t--there’s a _line_ , Kurt--”

Kurt got to the window just as the person already there was moving away, so he shoved himself of the next person, ignoring their angry yelling, and smiled charmingly at the man behind the counter. 

“I’m here for a fiancee visa,” he said.

The man behind the counter - large, black, unimpressed, with a name tag that said _Azimio_ \- gave him a look. 

“Hummel, right?”

Kurt blinked in surprise. “Well, yes, but--”

“Ms. Sylvester will see you around back,” Azimio said, sounding bored. 

Kurt paused, brow furrowing. “But I’m just applying for a visa, why does she--”

Azimio gave him a look. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Come, Blaine.”

Blaine, much like the good minion he _sometimes_ was, trotted obediently after him.

They managed to find an office for Ms. Sue Sylvester easily enough. Kurt rapped sharply on the door and opened it when someone barked, “Come in,” from inside. He hurried inside, Blaine still right behind him, and paused upon seeing Ms. Sylvester.

She was tall, even sitting down, with cropped blonde hair and a sneer. She was also wearing a pantsuit - a _pantsuit_ , for crying out loud. 

“Ms. Sylvester,” Kurt said, holding out his hand and letting none of his horror show on his face. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Kurt Hummel and this is my fiance, Blaine Anderson.” The word fiance still felt odd in his mouth - odder still when it was placed next to Blaine’s name.

Ms. Sylvester eyed them and didn’t take Kurt’s hand. “Sit down,” she said brusquely. “Alright, I have one question for you two idiots: are you committing fraud so Lady Face here doesn’t deported back to Maple Land?”

Kurt and Blaine’s jaws dropped in unison. Kurt, however, managed to recover more quickly.

“No,” he said, taking Blaine’s hand and ignoring how clammy it felt. “Of _course_ not. We’re in love, Ms. Sylvester, and I’m shocked that you’d think otherwise.”

Ms. Sylvester raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh?” she asked. “So you don’t think it’s suspicious that days before your deportation, you pull out a fiance from nowhere?”

Kurt sniffed imperiously. “Blaine and I were keeping it under wraps due to our working situation,” he explained.

Blaine, to Kurt’s surprise, suddenly jumped in the conversation. “Especially because of the promotion I’m receiving next month,” he added, even throwing in a charming, aw shucks grin.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, wondering what Blaine was dithering on about. “Don’t tell her about the promotion, darling,” he said, gritting his teeth.

Blaine flashed a mischievous grin at him, then turned back to Ms. Sylvester. “Oh, but it’s such good news! Next month, I’m being promoted to producer. That way it isn’t awkward, what with me being Kurt’s secretary and all.”

“I see,” Ms. Sylvester said, looking between them. “The problem is, you see, is that we received a tip off from a Mr. Sandy Ryerson that you two are not a real couple.”

“Sandy Ryerson is a man we fired today, and he probably has some sort of grudge,” Kurt cut in quickly.

Ms. Sylvester rolled her eyes. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m speaking, Porcelain. Now, the fact of the matter is that I don’t give a damn if you two are a real couple or not, but my _bosses_ do and unfortunately they take it very seriously. Which means this: this Monday, I will be giving you two an interview, in separate rooms, where you will answer a series of questions that any committed couple should know about each other. Should you get even a single question wrong, your visa application will be denied and Tickle Me Dough Face here will be deported back to the Land of Reindeer, capiche?” Ms. Sylvester leaned forward, a smirk on her face. “And let’s not forget the 250,000 dollar fine young Burt Reynolds here will be facing, as well as a five year stint in jail.”

Kurt could hear Blaine taking in deep breaths beside him, possibly on the point of hyperventilating, and said, “Of course, we understand. We’ll be in bright and early Monday morning.” Remembering Blaine’s comment earlier that day, he added, “Of course, we’ll be attending Blaine’s grandmother’s 90th birthday this weekend . . . Do you think we’ll be back in time, sweetheart?”

“The plane ride from Alaska isn’t that long,” Blaine answered.

Kurt blinked in surprise: first, at Blaine being able to gracefully tell Kurt where he lived and second because, _Alaska_ , really? Kurt’s first thought probably would have been Iowa or Ohio, because god _damn_ if Blaine didn’t sometimes act like an all-American boy with his manners and his aw shucks smiles.

“So we’ll be here at nine, let’s say?” Kurt told Ms. Sylvester sweetly.

Ms. Sylvester gave them a long, hard look, then sighed. “Alright,” she muttered. “But I’ll be keeping an eye on you two. If you’re up to anything, and I mean _anything_ , I’ll find out!” She opened her desk and pulled out two thick books. “Here is a list of questions we’ll be asking you. Look over them in advance, make sure you know the answers.” She pushed the books over at them. “Now get _out_ of my office.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Kurt said and stood, taking Blaine’s elbow and grabbing the books with his free hand.

They made it out of the building without saying a word to each other before Kurt sighed heavily.

“Well that woman was _not_ what I was expecting,” he said. “I can’t believe she’s actually working with other people. And did you hear what she called us? How on earth does she still have her job? I’m thinking of writing a complaint to her manager--”

He turned to see Blaine glaring at him with furious eyes. Kurt blinked in surprise. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Blaine angry before.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Were you not in the same room, Kurt?” Blaine asked incredulously. “Did you not hear the things I did?!”

Kurt waved a hand. “Oh, come now--”

“We’re not doing this, Kurt,” Blaine announced, pronouncing every word carefully.

“Don’t be silly, of course we are,” Kurt said, moving past Blaine.

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s arm and spun him around. “No, we’re not. _Five years in prison_. A 250,000 dollar fine. No, we’re going to go back in and tell Ms. Sylvester we lied and beg for mercy.”

Kurt glared at Blaine. “It’s only five years of jail if we get _caught_ , Blaine,” he said. “We won’t get caught. We’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “And that thing you said about the promotion! Flawless, she completely bought it.”

“Oh, I was _serious_ about that,” Blaine snapped.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “As _if_ \--”

“Kurt, I am looking at a 250,000 dollar fine and five years of jail time, you are _giving_ me a promotion for this.” Blaine paused, then added, “And you’ll lay down some demos with my artist.”

Kurt made a face. “No, not until he gives us another CD with better material on it--”

“Fine, then I’ll walk away right now and you’ll be screwed, Kurt,” Blaine exclaimed.

Kurt considered Blaine’s angry face and the tight grip he had on Kurt’s arm. “Fine, fine, I’ll work with your second-rate amateur _and_ you’ll get a promotion.” Kurt sighed. Blaine relaxed a little. “Now, where exactly in Alaska do you live?”

“Sitka,” Blaine answered, pulling his hand from Kurt’s elbow entirely, looking much more relaxed and much less angry. Kurt, for some reason, almost felt disappointed. He so rarely saw Blaine angry that getting a face full of it was rather--

Kurt cleared his throat. Best not to think about it.

“Sitka,” he repeated slowly, tasting the sound of it. He’d never heard of Sitka before. “Alright. We’ll fly up tomorrow morning then at around eight, shall we? And I’ll spring us for first class, even though the only improvement they have is a little more room. We’ll spend the weekend with your parents study the book Sylvester gave us, come back on Monday, ace the test, have a quick ceremony, then--”

“I want you to ask me nicely,” Blaine interrupted.

Kurt frowned. “Ask you nicely?” he asked, nonplussed.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Ask me nicely to _marry_ you, Kurt,” he explained, with a hint of impatience.

Kurt scoffed, “Is this _really_ necessary--”

Blaine smirked, an expression so foreign to his face that Kurt did a double-take upon seeing it. “Yes. If we’re doing this, I want you to ask me nicely”

Kurt looked at the ground, then at the pants of his Armani suit, then at Blaine’s face. Sighing, he bent to one knee and looked up at Blaine, who was staring down at him with frank amusement. _One day,_ Kurt thought, _one day, I will get you back for this, Blaine Anderson, even if you are helping me out of a sticky situation right now._

“Will you, Blaine Anderson, be my husband?” he asked flatly, ignoring the looks they were getting from the nearby people.

Blaine considered it. “Not if you’re going to ask like that,” he decided. “A little more enthusiasm, please?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Will you, Blaine Anderson, pretty please with cherries on top, marry me?”

Blaine laughed a little. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes, I will.”

“Good,” Kurt said, standing and dusting off his pants. “I guess I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow then.”

Blaine sighed heavily. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and walked away.


	3. my fiance

“These are a _lot_ of questions,” Blaine commented two hours into their flight, flipping through the book Sylvester had given them. “Sure you’ll know all the answers in time for Monday?”

“I’ll be fine,” Kurt snapped, irritated because he didn’t much like flying and being stuck next to Blaine made it ten times worse. “What about you?”

Blaine laughed. “Kurt, the sad fact is that I already _know_ all of the answers.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Oh _really_?” he scoffed and snatched the book from Blaine’s hand, flipping through it until it settled on a random page. He scanned it, looking for a question that he thought Blaine wouldn’t know the answer to. “What am I allergic to then?”

“Peanuts,” Blaine answered immediately, then added with a grin, “And the full spectrum of human emotions.”

Kurt smirked at him. “Oh, that was _funny_ ,” he said sarcastically. “You sure you don’t want to be a stand up comedian instead of a music producer?”

“The comedy audience will just have to live without me, I’m afraid,” Blaine teased, grin widening.

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to the book. “Was I in any sports in high school?” he asked, not expecting Blaine to know that one.

“Football and cheerleading,” Blaine answered, just as swiftly as before. “Also, Glee, though I don’t think that’s really a sport.”

“With some of the dancing we did, it was,” Kurt muttered, a little taken aback. 

How much about him did Blaine know? He was sure he’d never shared the details of his high school life with Blaine . . . . He searched through the book, hoping to find something that was so private there was so no way--Ah.

“Do I have any scars?” Kurt asked, knowing that Blaine had never seen him unclothed.

Blaine paused, then said, “I’m actually pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

Kurt froze. _Shit, there’s no way Blaine can know about that, shit_. “Oh?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible. “Only pretty sure?”

“Yeah, you see, your dermatologist called a few years back about a Q-switched laser. I looked them up, and they’re used to remove tattoos. The funny thing is, you cancelled the appointment.” Blaine looked over at Kurt and raised an eyebrow, smirking _again_ , damn him. Since when did Blaine know how to smirk? “What is it? Tribal ink? Japanese Kanji? Barbed wire?”

Kurt didn’t answer him, hoping that Blaine would just forget about it. “You know, it’s fun for me to experience you like this,” he snapped. 

“Thank you,” Blaine said. “You know, you’re gonna have to let me know where it is.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Kurt said with irritation, snapping the book shut. 

“They’re gonna ask,” Blaine teased.

“We are _done_ with that question,” Kurt told him firmly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could buckle your seat belts,” the overhead announced in a tinny voice, “We are beginning our descent to Juneau.”

“Juneau?” Kurt asked with confusion as he strapped himself in. “I thought we were going to Sitka?”

“We are,” Blaine answered, busy trying to fix his seat belt in place.

“And how are we _getting_ to Sitka?” Kurt asked with irritation.

Blaine grinned at him, wide and amused. “Oh, you’re gonna love this.”

-

An hour and a half ride on a smelly and cramped plane was _not_ Kurt’s idea of a good time. He’d never been so glad to descend to land in his _life_ , even if it did mean he was about to meet Blaine’s family.

“Your face is priceless,” Blaine told him, grinning broadly. “Come on, I think I see my mom and grandma.”

Kurt sighed and gathered his two suitcases, rolling his eyes when Blaine didn’t even offer to help him. Typical. He followed Blaine across the landing station until they reached the group of people waiting for the passengers. Blaine stopped in front of two women standing at the front of the group. Kurt knew without asking that these were his mother and grandmother - they both looked eerily alike to Blaine, aside from the female factor. Blaine’s grandmother’s hair was very white, but her eyes were the same hazel-brown as Blaine’s and Blaine’s mother’s. 

“Blaine!” Blaine’s mother exclaimed, reaching out to tackle him in a hug. Blaine’s grandmother joined in a moment later.

Kurt stood a little bit away from them, watching, and felt a pang of envy. It had been so long since he’d been hugged by a family member, not since--

Well. 

“Oh, Blaine, I’m _so_ glad you’re home!” Blaine’s mother said, pulling away finally. “Now, show us your fiance!”

Blaine turned and took Kurt’s hand, drawing him in. Kurt smiled a little at Blaine’s mother and grandmother, feeling awkward.

“Mom, Gammy, this is Kurt Hummel,” Blaine said. “Kurt, this is my mother and grandmother.”

“So I gathered,” Kurt murmured. “It’s very nice to meet both of you,” he said, more loudly. “Blaine can’t stop talking about you in New York.”

Blaine’s mother blushed, but Blaine’s grandmother gave Kurt a scrutinizing look. “Bit on the girly side, hm?” she asked. Kurt tensed up. His feminine face and voice had always gotten him ridicule, and even if this woman was turning 90 and his fake fiance’s grandmother, he wasn’t going to take that from her.

“Well you’re a bit mannish, darling, so I suppose it evens out in the end,” Kurt snapped, meaning it. Younger, and in a suit, Blaine’s grandmother could pass for his twin.

Blaine’s mother gasped, but the grandmother smiled, slow and sure. “You know, Blaine, I think I like this one,” she said. “He’s a little spitfire, he’ll keep you on your toes. The best kind of partner keeps you on your toes. You can call my Gammy, Kurt.” She offered her hand.

Kurt relaxed and took it. “I appreciate your approval,” he said, surprising himself by how much he meant it.

“Now, do you prefer to be called Kurt or the Son of the Devil,” Gammy said, smiling wickedly. “Because we’ve heard it both ways.”

“Heard it lots of ways, actually,” Blaine’s mother cut in. “You can call me Alice, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well,” Kurt said. “Thank you for letting me be part of this weekend.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, especially since we finally get Blaine back home again!” Alice exclaimed, kissing Blaine’s cheek. “Now, come on, let’s get you both settled in? How was the flight?”

“Awesome!”

“Terrible.”

Blaine and Kurt looked at each other. “Kurt here doesn’t like cramped spaces,” Blaine explained to Alice, who just looked amused.

“Oh, those planes can take some getting used to,” she said as she led them to the car, an expensive look jeep. “The first time your father took me in one, I nearly made him go deaf from screaming in his ear.”

“Where is dad, by the way?” Blaine asked.

Alice paused. “Well, you know him, always working,” she answered, her tone--odd. Kurt frowned and looked at Blaine, who had a resigned look on his face.

“Of course,” Blaine murmured. “Working.”

_There’s a story there,_ Kurt thought as they all got into the jeep and started off. _I never thought Blaine had daddy issues, but I guess there’s a lot about Blaine’s family life that I don’t know._ He was going to have to educate himself for Monday, that much was for certain. And he might even have to tell Blaine about his _own_ family situation, which made Kurt’s stomach curl up in knots.

Kurt looked outside of the window, ignoring the rest of the talk going on in the car, and frowned when they passed a store called Anderson Motors. His frown deepened as he realized the store next to that one was Anderson Grocery, and then Anderson Post . . . . Kurt’s eyes widened as they passed store after store that all the name Anderson on them somewhere. He looked over at Blaine, who was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and then back out at the numerous amounts of stores that his name on them. Was there someone else named Anderson on the island who wasn’t related to Blaine’s family? Or was Blaine really filthy rich?

He elbowed Blaine in the side. Blaine grunted and turned to glare at him. “Don’t _do_ that,” he hissed.

Kurt gave him a level stare. “You never told me about the family businesses, _honey_ ,” he said, mockingly sweet. 

Blaine blinked, then smirked. Before he could say anything, Alice cut in, saying, “He was probably just being modest.”

“How many businesses does your family own?” Kurt asked, turning to her instead, intent on figuring out just many riches Blaine had been hiding from him.

Alice paused, then said nonchalantly, “Well, we’ve bought out a good portion of the town, so I’d say the majority of the businesses in Sitka belong to us. Wouldn’t you agree, Blaine?”

“Dad doesn’t like to leave anything untouched,” Blaine muttered. Kurt gave him a look and he said, more loudly, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“Alice, are we going to our hotel?” Kurt asked a moment later, noticing as they drove passed an Anderson Motel. And seriously, it was almost tacky to have ones name in front of everything like that. 

“Oh no!” Alice exclaimed, sounding genuinely shocked. “No, we cancelled your reservation, Kurt! Family does not stay in a _hotel_. No, you’ll be staying with us!”

Kurt paused. “Great!” he said with more cheeriness than he felt. “Just great.”

They stopped near the waterside, to Kurt’s confusion, and all got out of the car. Blaine went around back and lifted Kurt’s suitcases off the back for him.

“Oof,” he said as he placed the second one heavily on the ground. “You’ll want to lift that one with your knees, _sweetheart_.”

Kurt blinked, then realized that Blaine was already walking away, leaving the suitcases behind with Kurt. Huffing, he grabbed the handles and hurried after him, ignoring the way his arms strained a bit.

“Blaine, dear, shouldn’t you help him a bit?” Alice asked worriedly.

“Oh, he’s not a damsel, Alice,” Gammy exclaimed impatiently. “I’m sure he can handle a few bags by himself.” 

Blaine smirked at Kurt and Kurt scowled at him. It _was_ true, he _wasn’t_ a damsel in distress, but at the same time, _gentlemen_ helped _anyone_ who was in trouble, regardless of their gender. And he would never admit it to anyone, least of all Blaine, but his bags were actually kind of heavy and he wouldn’t have minded Blaine taking one.

Kurt watched in horror as Alice and Gammy walked over to the edge of one of the walls and started climbing down, presumably to get to where they had a boat docked. Kurt looked at his bags then back at the edge and wondered how the _hell_ he was supposed to get them down there.

“Here, give them to me,” Blaine said and hoisted one on his shoulder. Kurt pointedly ignored the flutter in his stomach at the sign of strength because he was not a teenage girl and seeing an adult man lift up his suitcase with ease should _not_ give him a case of the butterflies.

Blaine hoisted the suitcase over the edge, and Kurt shrieked. Blaine jumped.

“What is it?!” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You _threw_ my _suitcase_!” Kurt exclaimed. “What on _Earth_ \--”

“Don’t worry, our boat driver caught it,” Blaine said, looking a little amused. “He’s used to having to catch luggage, it got down there perfectly safe. Now, give me your other one.”

Kurt wanted to protest, not sure how much he trusted this supposed boat driver, but he reluctantly handed it over after Blaine gave him a look. Blaine hoisted it over, the same as the last time, and then swung himself down. Kurt hurried over to the edge and was relieved to see his suitcase standing the proper way up by the side of a well-dressed man wearing a hat. 

“Climb on down, Kurt,” Blaine called up.

Kurt looked down the ladder - which did _not_ look safe, people needed to replace these things - and sighed heavily. Carefully and slowly, he turned and placed a foot on the rung, hoping his designer shoes wouldn’t slip and make him lose his balance. Which, of course, was like yelling up to whatever deity was in the sky, _please, make me fall and lose my balance!_ because a second later, Kurt’s foot slipped and he found himself tumbling off the ladder.

He closed his eyes, expecting to hit concrete, but instead slammed into something warm and hard - _Blaine_ \- and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

“Ow,” he heard Blaine mutter into his hair - Kurt had ended up sprawled over Blaine’s body, his nose buried in Blaine’s collarbone. Blaine, Kurt thought, a bit dazedly, smelled rather good - musky, with maybe a hint of cologne underneath. Kurt had never thought that Blaine was the type to wear cologne but-- 

“Kurt?” Alice cried, “Kurt, are you alright? Blaine?”

“We’re fine, mother!” Blaine yelled to her, sounding a bit breathless. “Just give us a minute to recover.”

“Sorry,” Kurt muttered, not raising his head. The embarrassment of slipping off of a _ladder_ was beginning to catch up with him. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t crack my skull open,” Blaine said, sounding more amused than angry. “Then I’d be dead and you’d be deported, remember?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and sat up, glaring down at Blaine, who was grinning widely. “I’m sure I could find someone else susceptible to my considerable charm,” he sniffed. Blaine’s grin shifted and turned--Kurt didn’t know what to call it exactly. But there was definitely something different in that smile, something almost dangerous. Kurt realized, suddenly, that he was essentially straddling Blaine’s waist and flushed.

He hurriedly got off Blaine and stood, dusting himself off. Before he could think about it, he offered a hand to Blaine, who was still lying on the ground. Blaine gave him an amused look, the danger lurking in his expression disappearing, but he took it and Kurt hoisted him up. Kurt, however, was either stronger than he thought, or Blaine had just miscalculated, because Kurt pulled him too hard and they ended up standing chest to chest. Kurt, feeling flustered, was a little gratified by the way Blaine had to tilt his head up a bit to meet his eyes - he’d never felt better about having a few inches on Blaine.

“Shall we go?” Blaine murmured, and his mouth was _too close_ to Kurt’s mouth and Kurt flushed deeply, feeling more flustered than he had in his _life_ as he stepped away from Blaine, clearing his throat.

“Yes, let’s--let’s go. It’s time I saw where you lived, right?”

Blaine’s smile slipped a bit, but it was back so quickly that Kurt thought he might have imagined it faltering.

“You boys all set?” Alice said, coming up to their sides. “Kurt, are you sure you’re alright? That was a nasty fall--”

“I managed to catch him, mom,” Blaine cut in. “I think he got out of it without a scrape.”

Alice patted her son’s shoulder. “You’re alright too, aren’t you, Blaine? We don’t need to go see Doctor Figgins, do we?”

Blaine shook his head. “Nope, all good. Now, let’s get home, shall we? I’m looking forward to unpacking and relaxing.”

Alice hesitated. “Well,” she said cautiously, “you see, Blaine--”

Blaine groaned. “Mom,” he said, sounding resigned. “Who did you invite?”

They started toward the boat. “Just a few close friends,” Alice assured Blaine. “And, you know, the relatives. And maybe some of your father’s business associates.”

“So the entire town then?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Pretty much,” Gammy cut in, shrugging. Kurt’s lip twitched. “Come sit by me, doll face,” she said to Kurt. “Gammy will make sure you don’t fall out of the boat and drown.”

Kurt made a face, but went to sit by her. “What’re they talking about?” he asked her, gesturing to Alice and Blaine.

“Oh, Alice is throwing a welcome home party for Blaine,” Gammy said. “She invited pretty much the whole damn town.”

Kurt swallowed heavily. “Oh,” he said. “I see.”

The thought of not only meeting Blaine’s father, but also the rest of the people in the town Blaine grew up in was a bit--daunting, to say the least.

-

“You house is _amazing_ ,” Kurt whispered to Blaine as the boat pulled up to the dock in front of Blaine’s home.

It was on its own small island a little off the coast of the town and it was _huge_ \- easily mansion sized, painted a rich creme color which gave it an elegant, stately look. Whenever Kurt had imagined where Blaine lived, he somehow always envisioned a tiny apartment with stacks of records and CDs surrounding him. This house - this _life_ \- was never something he’d expected Blaine to have. It almost made him jealous, because Kurt had come from humble, middle-class beginnings and worked his way up. He’d paid for college by working two jobs, for God’s sake. 

“It’s not that great,” Blaine muttered. 

Kurt elbowed him, glad that Alice, Gammy and the driver, whose name was Thad, were ahead of them and not paying attention. “You never told me you were rich either, Blaine.”

Blaine scoffed. “ _I’m_ not rich,” he said. “My family is. There’s a difference.”

Kurt considered Blaine for a moment, taking in the worn, ragged sweatshirt with _Dalton Academy_ written in faded ink, the jeans with holes at the ends, the dirty sneakers, the way his hair was in desperate need of a haircut. Outside of work, Kurt had never seen Blaine wear anything fancier than that. Even his suits were cheap and worn. Kurt wondered if it was Blaine’s choice to stay poor or if his family didn’t want to support him. Maybe his father was the cause of it - Alice and Gammy seemed to love Blaine quite dearly. They made Kurt feel a little guilty for all the times he’d stopped Blaine from going home for a party or a birthday.

They approached the house, which had a _huge_ lawn, and Kurt could already hear people inside, as well as music. Butterflies erupted in his stomach. Kurt had learned to deal with people, due to his job, but he always felt awkward around people who weren’t music stars or producers. It came from his high school days, when 98% of the school couldn’t and didn’t want to try and understand who Kurt was or the things that he did. Kurt had been friendless in high school, which he supposed was part of the reason he’d worked so hard to go to New York and make his dreams come true.

They entered the house, and the inside was just as amazing as the outside - all hardwood floors and lush carpets, with high ceilings. Kurt thought of large-ish apartment back home and had a desperate longing to have a house like this to call his own. But then again, it wasn’t as if he needed it, not just for himself. Maybe one day, when he found someone-- _if_ he found someone--

“Blaine!” he heard people calling as they passed through. Blaine was the recipient of many back pats and hair ruffles. 

“Kurt, dear, let Thad take your luggage upstairs,” Alice said and Kurt handed his suitcases over to Thad, who took them with an easy smile. “Blaine’s father is in the kitchen, I believe. Let’s go and introduce you, shall we?”

Kurt nodded, curious about Blaine’s elusive father, who apparently decided to work instead of going to bring his son home and who might be the reason Blaine still lived like a broke college student. Alice took his arm and led him through the crowd. Gammy stayed behind, chatting with some older ladies, and Blaine was lost in the sea of people. Kurt swallowed nervously, hoping Blaine would catch up with them. It was more nerve-wracking than he’d thought it would be, meeting the parents. Maybe it was because he was starting to realize now just how elaborate this entire scheme would be, just how many people it would affect. Kurt hadn’t even thought about it before, because there wasn’t anybody on his side who would care or notice if he got engaged. But _Blaine_ \--Blaine had a loving mother and a funny grandmother and a father that sounded stern and unyielding and Kurt realized that they were soon going to be lying to all important people in Blaine’s life. 

He swallowed heavily and pushed back the guilt. It was either this or spend a long, lonely year in Canada, and he would sacrifice anything, say anything to avoid that. 

They managed to push their way into the kitchen - a room that nearly made Kurt salivate due to its shining, polished surfaces and the amount of _space_ it provided. Kurt loved cooking and baking, more so than he admitted to anyone, and the amount of things he could _make_ in a kitchen like _this_ \--

“Thomas?” Alice said, stepping forward and bringing Kurt’s notice to the single man in the door. “Thomas, this is Kurt, Blaine’s boyfriend? Kurt, this is Thomas, Blaine’s father.”

Thomas was much taller than his wife (and, by default, than Blaine) and his hair was light brown. His eyes were also a very light, pale blue. It was clear, looking at the two of them, where Blaine had gotten the majority of his looks. There was a frown pulling at the edge of his mouth as he looked at Kurt, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said finally, holding out a hand. 

Thomas paused, but then took it in his own. His hands were rough, callused, and much larger than Kurt’s. “Nice to meet you as well,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Blaine has told us a lot about you.” He looked Kurt from head to toe. “Never mentioned how fancy you are though.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “Well he never mentioned that his father had an unfortunate habit towards rudeness, so I guess he forgot a lot of things,” he snapped. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Got a tongue on you, huh? I meant no offense, Kurt, just wondering why my boy, who keeps telling me he likes men, went out and got the--”

“Dad!” Blaine came in to the kitchen, his face closed off and angry. “I would appreciate if you wouldn’t offend my boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend_ sounded so odd in Blaine’s voice, especially since Kurt knew Blaine was referring to him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Thomas said, not really sounding sorry. Kurt’s mouth pinched. “I’m just an old man trying to keep up with you young people.”

Blaine’s smile was very forced. “Just don’t do it again, dad.”

“Of course,” Thomas murmured. “So, Kurt, you’re in the music production business, huh? How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s going very well,” Kurt said, wishing to be anywhere but in that kitchen. “We recently just managed to get one of our artists to do a _Rolling Stone_ photo shoot.”

“Oh?” Alice asked, perking up. “Which one?”

“Rachel Berry,” Kurt said, smiling as Alice’s eyes widened in delight. Rachel was very popular with the 30-50 crowd, for some reason--definitely more so than she was with the younger generation. Kurt was hoping that the _Rolling Stone_ coverage would widen her appeal a little more. 

“I love her!” Alice exclaimed. “Do you know what issue she’ll be in?”

“We’re hoping to get her scheduled in the next few days, so she should be in the month after next week’s issue,” Kurt answered. He hesitated, then added, “I could give you a call when I know the specific date, if you’d like?”

“Oh, I’d _love_ that,” Alice proclaimed. “Remind me to give you my number before you both head back to New York.”

“Still going back to New York then?” Thomas cut in, looking at Blaine.

Blaine’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes,” he said, the word sharp and irritated. “My work is there, you know.”

“Yes, yes, producing music,” Thomas murmured. “But you’re still an assistant, aren’t you? Blaine, I’ve told you this before, you should just--”

“Give up my job and my dreams and come and work for the family business,” Blaine finished for him, his voice full of anger.

Kurt stiffened. How many times had they had this conversation? The thought that Blaine’s own father didn’t support him, didn’t want him to pursue his dreams--Kurt remembered, with vivid clarity, the way _his_ father had reacted when Kurt had told him he was going to New York for school. His father had been happy for him, ecstatic even, and had urged him on. Kurt’s hands tightened into fists. It itched at him, that Thomas was doing the exact opposite, that _any_ father wouldn’t support his child’s dream. And the itch deepened at the thought that Blaine could have taken him up on it at any time, that he could have very easily given up his dream and come back to Alaska, where Kurt would never see him again. Kurt took a deep breath.

“Actually, Blaine is being promoted to producer in a few weeks,” he announced. Silence reigned in the kitchen for a moment.

“ _Really_?!” Alice exclaimed. Kurt nodded sharply, ignoring the way Blaine was staring at him in confusion. “Oh, _Blaine_! That’s wonderful, darling!” She threw her arms around him. Blaine hugged her back, his eyes still on Kurt. Kurt, however, was staring at Thomas, who was frowning deeply.

“He’s even getting ready to sign his first artist,” Kurt continued recklessly. Thomas’ eyebrow went up. “What was his name again, Blaine?”

“Rory,” Blaine answered, still surprised. “Rory. Rory Flannegan.”

“He’s going to be our biggest new star,” Kurt said, vowing silently to himself that he would do whatever it took to make sure Rory Flannegan made it _big_. 

“Blaine, this is all so _wonderful_!” Alice exclaimed delightedly. “Honey, you’ve become producer and you’re signing artists and you have a wonderful boyfriend--everything is finally coming together for you!”

“It really is,” Thomas murmured. Kurt relaxed a little bit as the anger left Thomas’ face, replaced with something that looked like grudging respect. “It’s good that you’re finally moving up in the world, son.”

“Mom, dad, there’s one more thing we have to tell you,” Blaine said suddenly. Kurt tensed again, already knowing what was coming. “Kurt and I are engaged.”

A pause.

“Engaged,” Thomas said flatly. “You’re _engaged_.”

"That's wonderful, Blaine," Alice said quietly, though she was frowning slightly. 

"Alice,” Thomas said, sharp and angry. “Don’t--”

"Be happy for my son and his fiance?" Alice finished, an edge to her voice. 

Thomas gaped at her. Kurt glanced at Blaine, taking in the tight set of his shoulders and the frown on his lips. He took a deep breath, knowing he’d regret getting involved.

"Mr. Anderson," he said, stepping forward. Blaine's head whipped around. "I'm sorry we sprung this on you without any warning--"

"You damn well should be," Thomas said, not yelling, but still angry. “It’s bad enough that he came up with a boyfriend, but now a _fiance_ \--”

"Dad!" Blaine interjected.

"No, Blaine, I won't be sorry for saying this," Thomas growled. "Not only is it a damned funny sight to see that--that _boy_ hanging on your arm, but now you're going to get married to him! What does that mean, huh? It means you're going to stay over in your swanky new home--"

" _Dad_ ," Blaine said again, more angrily. Thomas' mouth snapped shut. "I'm sorry that we sprung it on you, but this _is happening_. Kurt and I are getting married. I would hope, at the least, to get some sort of blessing from you."

Thomas’ eyes narrowed. “It will be a long time before that happens,” he said.

Kurt, for a moment, wanted to step forward and say, _sorry, no, stop, it's all a sham._ To tell them that Blaine was only marrying him because he'd ordered Blaine to do it. Before he could, Alice stepped forward and slapped Thomas against the cheek - a full-on swing, hard enough to leave an immediate afterimage of it on his skin.

"Thomas Anderson," she hissed. "You will apologize to your son right now, or so help me God, I will be asking Blaine the rates for apartments in New York."

Thomas stared at her, wide-eyed, one hand pressed to his damaged cheek. 

“Mom, you shouldn’t--” Blaine started, his eyes wide.

“No, Blaine,” Alice said, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on Thomas. “He’s your _father_ and, I may be his wife but that doesn’t mean I have to sit by and let him treat you - or anyone, for that matter - like _shit_.”

Kurt’s knew that a gaping mouth was unattractive, but he couldn’t seem to close his. He made a mental note to never piss of Alice, even if she did look sweet and unassuming. 

“Apologize to them,” Alice told Thomas fiercely. 

Thomas took a deep breath. “I’m--sorry,” he said, and though it sounded forced, at least he wasn’t angry anymore. “I just want you to be happy, Blaine.”

Kurt blinked in surprise as Blaine’s hand slipped into his. “Kurt makes me happy, Dad,” Blaine said. 

Kurt had never realized Blaine was such a good liar - he played the perfect, devoted fiance. Kurt’s guilt, which had been building ever since landing in Sitka, tripled suddenly. 

Thomas eyed their joined hands with resignation. “I see,” he said quietly. Then he sighed. “Well, I suppose we should break the news to the town, huh?”

“That’s not necessary--” Kurt started, stuttering a bit.

“No, we may as well,” Thomas said. “And everyone’s outside now, let’s just get it over with.”

Alice beamed, apparently content now that Thomas was at least pretending to be okay with Blaine and Kurt. She kissed his cheek, over the place where a handprint was forming.

“Do you boys want to make the announcement, or should I?” she asked.

“We will,” Blaine said quickly.

Alice nodded and took Thomas’ arm, leading him out of the kitchen. The moment they were out of earshot, Kurt turned on Blaine and whacked him in the arm.

“Ow!” Blaine exclaimed, rubbing his elbow. “Not even married and the abuse begins already! What was that for?!”

“Blaine, we can’t make an _announcement_!” Kurt exclaimed. “This is a sham wedding!”

“So?” Blaine asked, looking genuinely nonplussed.

“Everyone you know is out there!” Kurt exclaimed. “Do you really want them all to know, so that when you come back in a year with a divorce, they can all just throw it in your face?”

Blaine blinked at him. “They won’t,” he said confidently. “They’re good people. Most of them have known me since I was a kid, Kurt.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. Was Blaine that naive? If there was one thing Kurt knew about people, it was that they were _horrible_ to each other, given the chance. Blaine’s face, however, told Kurt that there wasn’t any chance in hell Blaine would listen to him about that little fact of life. Kurt sighed heavily.

“What are we even going to tell them?” he asked.

“We’re in love, we’re getting married,” Blaine answered, as if it was obvious.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well, _yes_ ,” he said. “But--how did we meet? How did you propose?”

“I thought you were the one who proposed,” Blaine said, amusement in his eyes. 

Kurt huffed, and Blaine laughed out loud. Alice, as if drawn by the noise, popped her head back into the kitchen. “Everyone’s ready for you!” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’ll wing it,” Blaine decided, taking Kurt’s hand and dragging him out of the kitchen. 

Outside, large group of people were gathered, all ages. Kurt gulped, a bit nervous - he was no stranger to working a crowd, but these people were all _Blaine’s_ friends and that made Kurt feel unaccountably timid. 

Blaine grabbed a champagne glass from a table and tapped it, gathering the group’s attention. “Everyone!” he called. “We have an announcement to make!” A hush fell over the room, all eyes on Blaine and Kurt. “I’d like to introduce Kurt Hummel . . . my fiance!”


	4. change in plans

“So how did he propose?” Alice’s friend, Tammy, leaned forward into Kurt’s space, eyes gleaming. “Or were you the one who proposed? Never know how it works for you people.”

Kurt managed to restraint a biting comment about _her_ people and instead forced his face into a dreamy mask. It wasn’t hard - at one point, he’d wanted to be an actor, after all.

“Oh, it was so _romantic_ ,” he said, grinning inwardly as he realized all the people nearby were leaning in. “He brought me to an expensive restaurant, dazzled me with roses and champagne . . . .” All the women were sighing. “And then, at the end of dinner, he got down on one knee and, with tears in his eyes--”

“Tears, sweetheart?” Blaine asked, leaning over from his chair, amusement in his face. “I’m pretty sure there weren’t any tears.”

Kurt waved a hand. “No need to be ashamed, dear, everyone knows only _real_ men cry.” The men in the room exchanged looks, torn between outrage and confusion. “Anyways,” Kurt continued. “He got down on one knee, tears in his eyes, and asked me to be his husband until the day we died.”

“And you said yes!” one of the younger girls cried, her face shining. 

Kurt leaned over to her and said, in a mock stage whisper, “I said I needed to think about it.” A gasp rose among his audience. Kurt leaned back in his chair, smirking inwardly. He did love a good show. “Not because I didn’t love him, of course,” he didn’t let his cringe at the word _love_ show, “but because marriage is a big thing.” He leaned forward again. “And because it was fun to see him squirm.”

Blaine hit his shoulder. “Kurt!” he cried, but he was laughing along with everyone else. Kurt grinned.

“After a few days of torturing him, I brought him back to my apartment and dazzled _him_ with roses and champagne and told him yes,” Kurt continued. There was an eruption of applause.

Blaine leaned into his shoulder. “Were there tears then too?” he asked. Kurt made a valiant attempt not to be distracted by feeling of hot breath ghosting on his ear.

“Of course,” he said airily. Blaine laughed.

“Kiss!” someone called, and then the entire room was saying it. Kurt blushed a little, then scowled. He hadn’t blushed in _years_ , and then all of the sudden Blaine Anderson, of all people, was making him do it left and right. 

“Uhm,” Blaine said, looking at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt sighed and pulled him in by his shirt collar. 

“It’s only a kiss,” he said against Blaine’s lips as he gave him a quick peck on the mouth, ignoring the way Blaine’s lips were warm and soft against his. 

There were boos from their audience. “No, a real kiss!” one of women said, grinning. “Give us a taste of what we should expect at the wedding, huh?”

Kurt frowned, turned back to Blaine, who was still staring at him, wide-eyed. Kurt hadn’t properly kissed someone in _years_. A little uncomfortable with all the eyes on them, he moved forward and drew Blaine close again, pausing a bit before pressing their lips together. There was an awkward pause where both of them froze, then Blaine’s mouth parted under his, warm and open, and before Kurt could stop himself, he was sticking his tongue down Blaine’s throat, hand gripping the back of Blaine’s neck tightly. Blaine moaned a little bit, tilting his head back, and Kurt had never appreciated their height difference more--

A wolf whistle brought him back to himself and he hurriedly broke away from Blaine’s mouth, blushing wildly. Blaine, just as red as Kurt, stared at him wide-eyed. Kurt, for a moment, wondered if he could always get Blaine to shut up so easily with a kiss. If so, he’d have to employ it in the future . . . . 

“Now _that’s_ what I call a kiss,” crowed the same woman from before. She was fanning herself, grinning slyly. “You’ve boys are lu-cky!”

Kurt rolled his eyes, tension leaving him as he moved away from Blaine. “Show’s over, folks,” he said.

“Shame!” one of the women called from the back.

Kurt smiled, then paused when he realized, with some surprise, that he was actually enjoying himself. It had been such a long time since he’d enjoyed a party. Usually they were just tools he used to make a connection or to close a deal. He so rarely got to relax at one of them.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked.

Kurt looked over at him, blinking. The crowd around them was beginning to disperse, gathering into their own groups. 

“I’ll show you to our room,” Blaine said, taking Kurt by the elbow.

“Our?” Kurt asked as Blaine guided him through the throng of people.

Blaine smiled up at him. “My mother insisted on it.”

Kurt snorted. “I thought your family would be the wait until marriage type.”

“Because we’re from Alaska?” Blaine asked, smile widening.

“Well you were governed by Sarah Palin,” Kurt said, shrugging. 

Blaine made a face. “Ugh. That’s the worst part of saying you’re from Alaska - everyone thinks you like Palin.”

Kurt smiled a bit. Blaine was leading them up a long hallway of stairs - Kurt kept getting distracted by the line of photos on the wall, all of them featuring Blaine. Kurt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the ones of Blaine as a baby, waving his fists and grinning widely. 

“You don’t then?” he asked idyly.

“I’m Independent, not Republican” Blaine asserted. “Plus, she’s kind of annoying. I’m all for women in power, but if we might as well have a woman who knows what the hell she’s doing. Like Clinton, for example.” Blaine snorted. “My dad doesn’t quite agree.”

“Republican?” Kurt asked sympathetically.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “The _worst_. The only reason he doesn’t like Palin is because he thinks she’s not conservative _enough_.”

Kurt clicked his tongue, appalled. “Your father has horrible taste in politics,” he said. “Thank God you didn’t inherit them, I could never have a _Republican_ husband.”

“Neither could I,” Blaine laughed. “That makes us sound like very Republican-phobic, doesn’t it?”

Kurt shrugged. “That’s what they get when they try and deny us our rights,” he said, more bitter than joking.

Blaine paused and looked back at him. He slipped his hand down from Kurt’s elbow to his hand, so their fingers tangled together. Kurt’s mouth went dry.

“It’s changing,” Blaine assured him quietly. “I’m looking forward to the day when we have marriage equality in all 50 states. Even Alaska,” he added, grin curling at the edge of his mouth. “Anyways!” Blaine continued, apparently unaware of the way Kurt was staring at him. “This will be our room.”

He pushed open the door. Kurt took in the huge space with wide eyes. It was bigger than his own bedroom at home, and he squashed down the feeling of inadequacy fiercely. Perhaps he didn’t have large, luxurious homes like _some_ people, but he’d worked hard and gotten farther than a lot of people. He had no reason to feel like he wasn’t reaching some sort of success bar because his _secretary_ had a bigger room than him. 

“It’s nice,” Kurt said, deliberately nonchalant. 

Blaine rolled his eyes. “It’s horrible,” he said bluntly. Kurt blinked at him. “Who needs this much space, right? We’re two people, not a small army. This whole house is just--too big. I don’t like it.” He shrugged, glancing at Kurt. “I love my family, but I can’t say it’s been a hardship not to come back to this _place_.”

Kurt shook his head. “It _is_ nice,” he said again, more firmly. Just knowing how much Blaine disliked his wealth was enough to ease that small, bubbling pool of jealousy gathering in his stomach. “I bet you live in a tiny, hellish apartment, don’t you?”

Blaine looked sheepish. “Well, yes,” he said.

Kurt snorted and turned away to examine the huge bed. “When we’re married, you’re moving in with me,” he said absently. He frowned when there wasn’t a response and turned to see Blaine staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“Move in with you?” Blaine asked, wide-eyed. 

Kurt shrugged. “We’ll have to keep up appearances,” he said, a little bit uncertainly.

He’d almost forgotten that there would be an-- _after_. Being married to Blaine wouldn’t just be for a weekend or a month--they’d have to be married for a _year_. And they would have to keep that pretense up all the time, everywhere. Kurt bit his lip, turning away from Blaine. The thought of pretending for that long was--exhausting.

He jumped when Blaine’s hand curled around his. Kurt looked over to see Blaine regarding him closely, almost worriedly. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. “You know that, right? I mean, we might kill each other within the first few weeks, but we’ll work it out.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he relaxed a little. “I won’t kill you as long as you don’t disrupt my moisturizing regime,” he said.

Blaine laughed and withdrew his hand. Kurt refused to think about how cold his hand felt.

-

They settled in for the night, unpacking their things. Kurt very carefully attempted to ignore Blaine. He’d thought, when he started this whole facade, that it would be simple to keep up, almost laughably easy. He was starting to think he’d overestimated his emotional control.

There was a knock on their door an hour after they’d come up and Alice popped her head in.

“Gammy and I have something to run by you,” she said as she stepped inside, Gammy at her heels, grinning. Kurt didn’t know Gammy that well, but he had a feeling that her grin meant something dangerous was coming. 

“You boys might want to sit down,” Gammy suggested, grin widening.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged looks and slowly sat down together at the edge of the bed. 

“First, I want to say how happy we all are for you,” Alice said, beaming at them. “Even your father, though he’s not very good at . . . expressing that.” Blaine snorted. Kurt couldn’t help but agree with that sentiment. “So, to show our support . . . Well, I know Alaska doesn’t allow gay marriage, but we were wondering if you boys would like to hold the ceremony here, on Sunday?”

Kurt’s jaw dropped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine’s do the same.

Oblivious to their surprise, Alice continued, “It wouldn’t be the real thing, of course, but you could get all the legal stuff done when you’re back in New York. It would just be nice to do the ceremony part here, with all your friends and family, Blaine.” She paused, a sudden frown coming to her face. “Unless you wanted to wait for your family, Kurt? I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of that--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt said. “I don’t have any family left who’d care.” Immediately after he said it, he mentally kicked himself. That would have been the perfect excuse _not_ to do this horribly bad idea, and he’d just ruined it for himself. 

Alice’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching over to take Kurt’s hand. “Both of your parents are dead?”

Kurt flushed, aware of Blaine’s interested gaze. “Yes,” he muttered. “Are you sure you want to do this, Alice?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. “I mean, Sunday is only two days away, could we even manage--?”

Alice smiled again, though she kept her hand on Kurt’s. “It’ll be a rush job, but I think we could do it,” she said. She leaned in and added, winking, “It helps that we own most of the town.”

“But this really isn’t necessary,” Kurt said, looking to Blaine for support. Blaine, to his dismay, looked like he was considering the idea. “I mean, it’s such a huge effort and it’s not like we really need it anyways--”

“Oh, _pish_ ,” Alice exclaimed. “Kurt, honey, you are getting _married_! Don’t you want it to be more memorable than a trip to the court house?”

He had once. Kurt honestly hadn’t considered marriage in _years_.

“But--”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Blaine said. 

Kurt tensed, turning to him. “Are you sure, _honey_?” he asked, poison in his voice.

Blaine just smiled at him. “I think it’d be romantic. And we can always do it your way when we get back home, _dear_.” Kurt frowned at him, but Blaine was already turning to the ladies. “I think it’s a perfect idea, Mom. What will you need us to do?”

“Show up to your ceremony,” Alice said, laughing. “No, no, Gammy and I will plan the whole thing. In fact, Kurt--would you like to come out to town with us tomorrow afternoon? We can get you a fitting with our family tailor.”

Kurt blinked. “Family tailor?” he asked, torn between envy and amusement. 

“Tina’s very good,” Alice assured him. “She’s new - her father used to have the job, but he died a few years back and she took over. How about it? Expenses are all on us, of course.”

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who was making a face. Kurt didn’t normally like letting people he didn’t know tailor his clothes - Mercedes had been doing it since the beginning of his career, and he rarely let anyone else touch his clothes. But it _would_ be fun to annoy Blaine. 

“Alright,” he said. Blaine’s head snapped towards him.

“But you don’t like anyone but Mercedes tailoring your clothes!” he said, face full of surprise.

Kurt was really starting to get curious about how much of his life Blaine knew about. It was certainly more than Kurt thought he’d shared.

“Change can be fun,” he informed Blaine, on the edge of smug. 

Blaine glared at him. “Traitor,” he muttered. “Yes, yes, I’ll go in too,” he told Alice, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Good, that’s settled!” Alice said, clapping her hands with delight. “Let’s head in the morning, alright? Then you’ll still have time to properly relax at home before we go out for Gammy’s birthday celebration!”

“Birthday celebration?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at Blaine, who grinned at him.

“Oooh, this year will be a good one,” Gammy said. “I’ve got it all planned out.” She eyed Kurt critically. “You look like you could use a good party, kiddo, you’re definitely coming.”

Kurt frowned at her. “What kind of party?” he asked, assuaged by images of tea, biscuits, and making small talk with elderly people who just wanted to complain about the good old days. 

Gammy winked at him. “It’s a surprise,” she said. “You’ll find out tomorrow night! Now, we better let you boys get some . . . _sleep_.” She winked again. It took a moment for Kurt to catch her meaning - when he did, he flushed deeply and avoided looking at Blaine. Gammy laughed. “Come on, Alice. We’ll see you in the morning boys!”

It was silent for a moment after they left. Then Blaine sighed gustily. “Gammy’s insane,” he said, more fond than exasperated. 

“She most definitely is,” Kurt said, flush starting to fade a little. “As if I’d ever do _that_ with _you_.”

“I suddenly feel so special,” Blaine said dryly. “But it’s fine - you’re not exactly at the top of my list either.”

Kurt frowned, but shoved away the small mix of indignation and hurt. He didn’t care if Blaine wanted to sleep with him - in fact, better if he didn’t! If real feelings got mixed up in this sham of a wedding, it would make everything ten times more complicated. Kurt didn’t _need_ complicated. All he wanted was to be able to keep his life - and Blaine was helping him do that, because Kurt had ordered him to. They had a business arrangement and nothing more, and Kurt shouldn’t even _want_ anything more--

“I’m going to take a shower,” he muttered. He needed the time to think.

-

Blaine sighed, completely relaxing for the first time since he’d gotten home with Kurt. 

He’d been wound tense since the plane ride, but Blaine was used to covering his anxiety with smart remarks and smiles. There was a reason he’d lasted so long as Kurt’s assistant instead of having a nervous breakdown like the twelve people who’d had the job before him. But this situation - a pretend engagement, introducing Kurt to his parents and town, having his family life uncovered by his _boss_ \- was coming really close to breaking his mask of calm. 

It didn’t help that he’d had to kiss Kurt or that they had to keep pretending to be engaged, which meant _touching_. Not that Kurt did any touching - Blaine was starting to wonder if Kurt thought he was diseased or something - but _Blaine_ did and it was starting to drive him insane. He’d always thought Kurt was attractive, but his attitude had kept Blaine from thinking about it very much. Here, though, Kurt’s snappy attitude . . . softened, almost as if he realized that it wouldn’t be conductive to their charade if he ordered Blaine around all the time. And that meant it was easier for Blaine to remember that Kurt was stunning and had really, really soft hands and lips--

Blaine shook the thought off. Their relationship was complicated enough without adding attraction to it. But he had an inkling that living with Kurt would only make things worse. 

He laid back on his bed, sighing. If he’d known it would make his life so complicated, he would never had applied for the job as Kurt’s assistant.

-

“Can’t you do anything about the light?” Kurt complained, fresh from the shower.

It was nearly ten o’clock, but still dreadfully light outside. Blaine rolled his eyes and flipped the curtains shut, shadowing the room. Kurt sighed in relief, then turned to the bed.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” he told Blaine.

Blaine huffed. “And if my parents come in to surprise us with breakfast in bed?”

Kurt paused. “Would your mom actually do something like that?” He didn’t bother asking about Thomas - Kurt was sure he wouldn’t. 

“Maybe,” Blaine said sullenly. “Anyways, we can’t risk it, right?” He paused, then said, almost whining, “And the floor is _cold_.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Oh, _fine_ ,” he said. “But if you try _anything_ , I will hurt you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Blaine said, suddenly much more cheerful. Kurt turned to see him climbing into bed, shirt off. Kurt flushed, but tipped his chin high as he climbed into the opposite side of the bed, careful to stay as far away from Blaine as possible.

For a while they both laid there, attempting sleep. Kurt shifted experimentally - the bed was very comfortable, but he couldn’t quite find the right position--He froze when his hand brushed against warm skin. 

“Stop feeling me up, Hummel,” Blaine muttered, voice thick was sleep.

Kurt blushed and yanked his hand away like it was on fire. “As if I _would_ ,” he spat, then turned on his side, away from Blaine.

“‘S alright,” Blaine muttered. “Not like I’d care.”

Kurt huffed. “Go to _sleep_ , Blaine,” he said haughtily. 

After a long moment, Kurt heard Blaine’s breaths even out. He laid awake for a long while before sleep finally overtook him as well.


	5. the day before

Kurt woke in the morning to the shrill sound of his cell phone. Blindly, still half-asleep, he reached out for it. It was only when he knocked over a lamp instead of reaching his bedside table that he realized he wasn’t at home, and the events of the last few days flooded back to him.

“Blaine!” he hissed, still half-asleep and fumbling. “Blaine, my _phone_! Where is it!” There was a murmur from the lump of covers beside him, but otherwise Blaine stayed asleep. Kurt cursed and attempted to get untangled from the bedsheets. He only succeeded in nearly rolling off the bed. “Blaine!”

“Your manpurse,” Blaine muttered, voice heavy with sleep.

Kurt blinked, trying to see in the darkness of the room. “Where--”

“The chair,” Blaine murmured.

Kurt grinned with triumph when he caught sight of it and lunged, falling off the bed in the process. He wrestled with his bag for a moment before he managed to get his phone out, hurriedly answering.

“Hello?” he asked, trying to whisper. Blaine was still trying to sleep, after all.

_“Kurt!”_

“Rachel?” Kurt asked, blinking blearily. “Rachel, what is it?”

_“Kurt I don’t think I can do Rolling Stone. I know it will widen my already huge fan base, but it’s so degrading and have you seen what they do to the women they put on the cover? I will not parade my goods around like a prostitute, Kurt!”_

Kurt sighed heavily. “Rachel, sweetheart, I’ll make sure that they don’t do anything like that with you--”

“Kurt!” Blaine hissed, sitting up. Kurt was momentarily distracted by how _good_ Blaine looked rumpled by sleep. “Can you take that outside?”

“Sorry,” Kurt whispered. He grabbed a robe from the door and hurried outside. The hallway was quiet - he guessed everyone else was asleep. 

_“Kurt, it’s just not worth the loss of pride I’ll experience--”_

“Arf?”

“Oh my _God_!” Kurt half-screamed, jumping in the air. The tiny yellow dog in front of him tilted its head and barked again, more loudly. 

_“Kurt?! What is it, are you getting murdered?! Oh no! I’ll call the police for you, tell me where you are--”_

“Rachel!” Kurt said, finally able to calm his rapidly beating heart. “No, it’s fine, I was just startled by a dog.”

_“Oh, good. I would hate for you to get murdered, Kurt, you’re the only one who can make me more famous than I already am.”_

Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling a little. In Rachel-speak, that was quite the compliment. He looked down at the yellow dog, taking in the poof of its fur and its overlarge feet. A puppy then, if Kurt knew anything about dogs (which, honestly, he didn’t). Kurt hadn’t seen him yesterday, but maybe the Andersons had kept him out of the way because of the party . . . .

Kurt knelt down and held out a hand. The puppy sniffed at it curiously then licked the tip, tail wagging.

_“Kurt, are you still there?”_

“Yes, Rachel, I’m here,” Kurt stood back up. The puppy yipped at him, pawing at Kurt’s legs. “I understand that you’re reluctant to do _Rolling Stone_ , but I promise it will do nothing but help you. Don’t you trust me?”

There was silence at the other line. Finally, Rachel sighed. “Alright,” she said. “We’ll do it. But I swear, Kurt, if they flash one skimpy outfit at me, I’ll leave and I won’t look back.”

Kurt smiled and made a mental note to talk to Rolling Stone to make sure the photoshoot was as tasteful as possible. 

“Understood,” he said. The puppy’s barks were getting louder. Kurt winced, looking up and wondering if anyone in the house was awake yet. “Rachel, I’ve got to let you go. We’ll talk soon, alright?”

_“Kurt--”_

“Goodbye.” He hung up and sighed, slipping his phone into one of the pockets on the robe. He looked down at the puppy who, at the very least, had stopped barking. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

There was a laugh from behind him. Kurt turned to see Blaine standing down the hall, hair sleep-mussed and eyes bleary. Kurt very purposely avoided looking at Blaine’s bare chest. 

“His name’s Pavarotti,” Blaine said, coming closer. “We used to have another dog, but he died a year ago, so my mom got this little guy.” Blaine ducked down and scooped Pavarotti up, bopping him on the nose. “I’ve seen him in pictures.”

“Dog person?” Kurt asked wryly, watching as Blaine scratched Pavarotti behind the ears. Blaine grinned at him.

“Yeah. Let me guess - cat person?”

“They don’t shed as much,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “Or have as many accidents on expensive suits.”

Blaine laughed. “Guess that means a puppy is out the question for our new home, honey?”

Kurt tensed, but forced a smile onto his face. “Over my dead body, sweetheart.” He tugged his robe more closely around his body. “I don’t suppose you could show me where to get coffee in this house, hm?”

Still carrying Pavarotti, Blaine led him down a maze of hallways until they ended up in a very familiar kitchen. Kurt waited for Blaine to start getting the coffee ready, but he just kept cuddling with Pavarotti. Kurt rolled his eyes and stalked off to the cupboards, searching them until he managed to find the Anderson’s surprisingly large stash of coffee. The coffee maker was another surprise - not horribly fancy, but definitely an upgrade from the average. Being rich had its perks, Kurt supposed.

When he was finished with the coffee, he turned to see Blaine slumped at the kitchen table, Pavarotti sitting by his head.

“Pavarotti!” Kurt snapped. Pavarotti jumped, whirling around furiously, only to trip over his too-big paws and fall. Kurt tsked and moved over to the table, gingerly picking him up around the belly to set him on the ground. “You do _not_ sit on the table.”

“See?” Blaine asked, voice muffled from where his face was pressed into his arm. “You’d be a great dog owner.”

“Blaine?” Alice came around the corner, dressed in a robe. “Oh! You two are up early . . . .”

“I had a call to take from work,” Kurt said, going back to the coffee. 

“And I didn’t want my sweetie pie to be lonely,” Blaine mumbled into his arm. Kurt rolled his eyes.

“No, no, I’m glad you’re up already!” Alice said, taking a seat next to Blaine. “Gammy and I were just about to wake you with some breakfast in bed before we headed off to town.”

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, his face full of a silent _I told you so_. “That would’ve been lovely,” Kurt choked out. Alice beamed at him. 

“So we’ll leave in, say, twenty minutes or so?” she asked. “I made the appointment for ten, so we have plenty of time.”

“That sounds fine,” Kurt assured her, though he was already mentally planning on to downsize his moisturizing regime into twenty minutes instead of the usual forty.

Blaine’s look said he knew exactly what Kurt was thinking. “How about we make it forty instead,” Blaine said, winking at Kurt. Kurt found that a little disconcerting.

-

“Did I have any childhood pets?” Blaine asked, staring at Kurt expectantly over the book. Kurt rubbed moisturizer into his cheeks, considering the question.

“You had that dog,” he said. “The one before Pavarotti.”

“Lucretia,” Blaine said. At Kurt’s look, he added, “She was a girl!”

“Lucretia,” Kurt said, testing out the name. “Any other pets I should know about?”

“One very unfortunate goldfish,” Blaine said. “He died after about a day, so I don’t think he’s that important.”

“What was his name?” Kurt asked, mouth twitching a little.

Blaine paused, then said, all dignity, “Flounder.” Kurt laughed before he could stop himself. “It’s a very respectable name for a fish!”

“I’m sure,” Kurt assured him, still smiling. “Come on, another question.”

Blaine glanced down at the book. “How many relationships have I had?”

Kurt frowned. “None?” he asked. “At least, not while working for me.”

“Never had the time,” Blaine agreed. “I’ve just had one, actually. We met here.”

Kurt paused, tense for reasons he couldn’t quite name. “Oh?” he asked. “What was his name?”

“Sebastian,” Blaine said, smiling softly. Kurt scowled. “We were together for a year.”

“Oh?” Kurt asked, attempting nonchalance. “Why break up after all that time?”

Blaine tensed suddenly. “I left for New York,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think I could handle long distance, so Seb and I broke it off.”

“I . . . see,” Kurt said, tense with the realization that Blaine and Sebastian hadn’t had a falling out - they’d broken up because of the distance, not because of lack of feelings. “Does Sebastian still live around here?”

“What?” Blaine asked, distracted. “Oh, yeah. His dad’s the town lawyer, pretty much. They’re the second richest family here.”

“How wonderful for Sebastian,” Kurt said, more spitefully than he’d originally planned. Blaine’s eyebrow rose.

“Kurt, are you--”

“Blaine!” Alice called from downstairs. “Kurt! Are you two ready?!”

“Coming!” Blaine said, standing and holding a hand out to Kurt. “Ready for this?” he asked, tension dropping off of him as if it had never existed.

Kurt took it in his own. “As I’ll ever be.”

-

Alice, Kurt soon discovered, was a fashion _monster_.

Kurt liked fashion. He always had, though it was funner now that he was able to spend money on clothes without much worry. He could spend hours in shops, picking out outfits. But Alice’s intense focus and drive made his love for fashion look like mild indifference. 

Sitka only really had one boutique, owned by Tina, the Anderson family’s tailor. She was younger than Kurt had expected, and dressed extravagantly herself. Even though she was nothing like Mercedes, who was bossy and loud and motherly, Kurt quite liked her - he found they shared a similar sense of dry humor. 

However, as much as he liked Tina, he found that combining her with Alice made for a deadly duo of fashion demons. 

He and Blaine had been split up and sent off to separate rooms to put together their suits - “For tradition!” Alice had exclaimed brightly. Tina had, apparently, finished with Blaine a half-hour ago. Kurt envied him.

“I think pale blue for the tie, don’t you?” Alice asked, examining Kurt critically.

“Blue would help bring out his eyes,” Tina agreed. “Or maybe some sort of grey-blue. You really do have extraordinary eyes,” she told Kurt brightly. Before he could thank her, she turned back to Alice. “Do you think a bowtie?”

“Blaine’s doing one already,” Alice said. “Would it be too much to have both the grooms in bowties?”

Tina laughed. “I think it would work,” she said. “Maybe we could even theme it, if we decided to do gray for Kurt. Make gray silver instead, give Blaine a nice gold one . . . .”

Alice hummed. “Maybe,” she said reluctantly. “Kurt, honey, did you want a white or black suit?”

Kurt jumped. “White?” he asked.

“You would look lovely in white,” Tina assured him. 

Kurt considered it. “As long as it’s not too tacky,” he said, imagining the white suits he’d seen at his high school Prom with a shiver of disgust.

“You’ll be the height of elegance,” Tina said, grinning. “A white suit, a very light silver bowtie . . . maybe a grey or silver vest underneath too, hm? We’ll see. Alright, let’s put it together and see what we’ve got, shall we?”

Kurt resigned himself to yet another hour of being poked and prodded.

-

He was finally released an hour and a half later, with a stern order to go and have some fun with Blaine before heading home to prepare for Gammy’s party. Gammy and Alice, it seemed, still had party plans to make and had decided to stay in town for a bit longer. 

Kurt wandered over to Sitka’s only bar, where he’d been told Blaine had gone. The parking lot was mostly empty, odd for a Saturday afternoon, but Kurt figured most people just walked to it, since Sitka was so small. Hesitantly, he made his way inside.

Kurt didn’t like most bars - too noisy. But this one was quiet enough, even if the smell of smoke and alcohol still hung in the air. It was fuller than he’d anticipated, almost every table occupied. There was some kind of game playing on the TVs in the corners. 

Kurt frowned, scanning crowd for Blaine. He had to look over it twice before he spotted Blaine’s gel-shell of hair (he made a mental note to instruct Blaine to leave off the gel after they got married - Kurt couldn’t be seen with someone who treated his hair so abhorrently). Kurt immediately started towards him, only to pause when he saw that Blaine was talking with someone - a very tall, good-looking someone. 

Kurt started forward again, fixed on the stranger, who had the kind of elegant good looks Kurt associated with models or movie stars. By the time he reached them, they were both laughing at some joke. Blaine’s back was turned to him, but when Kurt cleared his throat, he turned on his heel as if he’d just heard a gunshot. Kurt resisted the urge to smirk - he had Blaine well-trained.

“Blaine,” he said quietly, coming up to his side and meeting the stranger’s eyes. “Who’s this?”

“Um,” Blaine said, eyes wide and anxious. “Kurt, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my . . . fiance, Kurt Hummel.”

“Fiance, huh?” Sebastian asked, voice low and silky. He held out a hand. “You don’t look like someone my Blaine would go for.”

Kurt very politely ignored Sebastian’s hand. Instead he took Blaine’s elbow, tucking it into his. “I guess I’m just lucky,” he said, an edge to his voice.

Sebastian’s eyebrows rose and his hand dropped back to his side. “Really, Blaine, he’s pretty out there,” he said to Blaine, though his eyes stayed fixed on Kurt. “I didn’t think you went for someone with such a gay face, Blaine.”

Kurt could see the challenge there. “This is your ex, sweetheart?” he asked, before Blaine could say anything. “You didn’t mention how much he looked like a meerkat.” Kurt smiled, all teeth. “Or the horse teeth.”

Sebastian’s eyebrow rose further.

“Um,” Blaine said, eyes huge. “I think we’d better go now. Sebastian, it was, uh, nice to see you. Come _on_ , Kurt.”

Kurt glared at Sebastian, but allowed Blaine to tug him out of the bar. Once outside, Blaine rounded on him, eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?”

Kurt blinked, taken aback. “He was an asshole,” he snapped. “I’m sorry, did you expect me to roll over and take it?”

Blaine waved his hands. “Well, _no_ , but--”

“But _what_ , Blaine?” Kurt asked, voice lowering dangerously. “Couldn’t stand to see me take a go at your ex-beau?”

Blaine growled. “Kurt, Sebastian is my _friend_ ,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insult my friends!”

“Maybe I won’t when your friends don’t sit there and say I’m too flamboyant for you!” Kurt protested.

Blaine paused. His anger dropped away a little. “He wasn’t saying that,” he muttered.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes, he was,” he said, still sharp. “You think I don’t know? _Out there_ is the code people use when they’re talking about flamboyant gay men.” Kurt’s chin tilted upwards. “Trust me, I’ve heard it used on me before.”

Blaine sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sebastian’s a little . . . .”

“Out there?” Kurt suggested, snide. Blaine snorted a laugh.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “He’s a bit of an asshole. Kind of like you.”

Kurt glared at him. “I am nothing like that Craigslist-surfing _lowlife_ ,” he spat. 

A pause. “Craigslist-surfing?” Blaine asked, nonplussed.

“You can smell it on him,” Kurt assured him. Blaine laughed again and Kurt found himself relaxing. 

“No more getting into cat fights with my friends,” Blaine told him. “Sebastian’s going to be at our ceremony, you know.”

Kurt made a face. “Does he have to be?”

“My mom will probably invite him, even if I don’t,” Blaine said, shrugging. “He was a part of our family for a while.”

Kurt’s stomach tightened. “Of course,” he murmured. “Your mom and Gammy are staying here for a while to finish things up for the party. They said we should head back without them.”

Blaine blinked. “Ah, of course,” he said. “Shall we go then?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, following Blaine as they left the parking lot, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in his chest. 


	6. I can't

“What do you mean, Blaine’s not coming?” Kurt asked Alice, brow furrowing. “She’s _his_ grandmother.”

Alice looked a bit shifty-eyed. “Well,” she said, “We were thinking . . . That we could make this into a combo-deal.”

Kurt sighed. “Combo-deal?” he asked wearily.

“Blaine’s going to go out with his father and some of his friends,” Alice said, and Kurt suddenly wondered if Sebastian would be among them. He nearly didn’t hear what Alice said next through the haze of red. “--you with Gammy and me and the girls.”

“What?” Kurt asked, irritated now.

“Well, we thought this could be your bachelor party!” Alice exclaimed. “We invited our girlfriends and they’re all up for it.” She paused, then added hurriedly, “We thought it’d be easier if you did it with us instead of Thomas.”

Kurt sighed. He couldn’t fault them that. “More of a bachlorette party then, isn’t it?” he asked wryly.

Alice worried her lip. “I hope that doesn’t offend you,” she said. “I know that Sebastian was always angry whenever I slipped up about that.”

Kurt felt another flash of anger and shoved it down. “Unlike Sebastian, I have no problem connecting with my feminine side,” Kurt told her frankly. “And you’re right, at least with you and Gammy I’d be comfortable. No offense to your husband, of course.”

“None taken,” Alice said, smiling again. “Now, hurry up and get dressed! Our dinner reservation is at seven, and then the fun begins!” She hurried away.

“Fun?” Kurt asked the empty hall, feeling strangely apprehensive.

-

Kurt was starting to think he should have told Alice no to the bachelorette party - in fact, he was starting to think that he should have just quietly been deported to Canada.

“Isn’t it crazy?” one of Alice’s friends, Holly, screamed in his ear.

Around them, the bar was throbbing with music, people dancing wildly. Kurt couldn’t even recognize it as the same bar from that afternoon.

“Yeah!” he yelled back, unenthused. 

“Come on, Alice wants you!” Holly yelled, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the throngs of people.

At their table, Alice was sitting with her girlfriends and Gammy, shot glasses littered in front of them. She motioned for Kurt to sit down. Kurt made to sit in the chair next to her.

“No!” Alice said, giggling. “No, sit in this one!” she motioned at the chair next to Gammy. 

Kurt frowned, but sat there instead. Almost instantly, a spotlight appeared on him. Kurt blinked into the light, wondering why the _hell_ a bar had a spotlight.

“Ladies!” the bartender crowed into a microphone, grinning from ear to ear. “Just for this special occasion, we are proud to present, the one, the only--White Chocolate!” 

Heavy dance music came from the speakers. Kurt watched with horror as the front door to the bar was flung open dramatically to reveal a tall blond man wearing little more than a pair of ragged shorts. Cat calls and whistles sounded throughout the bar, but the so-called White Chocolate took no notice of them - instead, he headed straight for Kurt. Kurt gulped a little - White Chocolate was a ridiculous name, even for a stripper, but Kurt couldn’t deny that he was very, _very_ good-looking.

“Are you Kurt?” White Chocolate asked, smiling a little.

“Yes?” Kurt said, before he realized he should have said no. Not that it would have mattered - he was the only guy in a sea of females, White Chocolate would have figured it out eventually. 

White Chocolate’s smile widened. “I won’t embarrass you too much,” he promised, then started swinging his hips to the music, stalking closer to Kurt.

Kurt shielded his eyes, face burning. He could see Alice and Gammy gasping with laughter out of the corner of his eye and vowed that he would have _revenge_ , if it was the last thing he did. He peeked through his fingers only to get a faceful of White Chocolate’s crotch.

“Oh _God_ ,” he said faintly.

-

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt said, after, when the party was over and people were pouring out of the bar. White Chocolate, whose real name was Sam Evans, grinned at him. “I mean, I’m sure you don’t usually perform on guys--”

Sam waved a hand. “No problem, dude,” he said. “Same basic stuff.”

Kurt gaped at him. He knew a lot of straight guys - sometimes he thought he knew _too many_ straight guys - and he was pretty sure that none of them, not one, would be comfortable giving him a lap dance. Then again, not many of them would be comfortable being a stripper either, so.

“Thanks?” he said uncertainly. He spotted Gammy and Alice stumbling out of the door together, arms locked across each other’s shoulders. “I’d better get going.”

Sam’s grin widened. He really did have an extraordinarily big mouth. “I’ll catch you later, dude. You’re the wedding tomorrow, yeah?”

Kurt wondered if there was anyone in Sitka who wasn’t coming. “Yeah,” he said tightly. “That’d be me.”

“Awesome. Good job catching Blaine - he’s a huge fish, dude, and he’s really nice.” Sam held out a fist. Kurt stared at it for a long moment, then sighed. What the hell, he was in a fake pretend engagement with his unfairly attractive assistant. He gently bumped Sam’s fist with his own and turned on his heel, marching towards Gammy and Alice, who were both extraordinarily drunk. 

“Sweet cheeks!” Gammy yelled, surprisingly loud for such an old woman. “How’d you like your stripper?”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and relaxing a bit. “Can we go back to the house now?” He paused, eyed them both. “Can either of you even _get_ us home?”

“Thad will take us!” Alice declared, giggling. “Thad does everything for us!”

As if by magic, Thad suddenly appeared. Kurt was slowly becoming convinced that Thad was either telepathic or had some sort of Anderson-sense that sounded whenever someone in the family needed him. 

“The boat’s nearby,” Thad said, grinning a little bit. “Shall we help them there, Mr. Hummel?”

“Please just call me Kurt,” Kurt said wearily. “Yeah, let’s get them into the boat.”

-

The house was quiet when they got back, but after Kurt and Thad managed to get Alice and Gammy to their beds, he went back to the bedroom to find Blaine already there, asleep on his side of the bed. Kurt frowned, staring down at him. He didn’t look liked he’d gone to sleep wasted - Kurt could see the edge of his pajamas from where the covers had slipped down. He wondered when Blaine had gotten back. 

He tried to stay quiet as he moved about the room, getting ready for bed. However, by the time he left the bathroom after his moisturizing routine, Blaine was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Kurt?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Go back to sleep, Blaine,” Kurt said, crossing the room on bare feet. 

“How was your thing?” Blaine asked, sliding back down in bed, eyes fluttering. “Did it go okay?”

Kurt slipped under the covers. “It was until your crazy relatives decided to hire a male stripper for me,” he said wryly.

Blaine sat up straight, eyes opening wide. “They got you a _stripper_?!” he exclaimed.

Kurt laughed. “Sam Evans? He goes by White Chocolate, apparently.”

Blaine groaned, covering his face. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think they’d go that far.”

“It wasn’t horrible,” Kurt assured him. “Really awkward, but not horrible.”

Blaine glanced at him, lip quirking. “Not horrible?” he asked. “Wow. Sitka is good for you, Kurt. A week ago, you would’ve run out of there screaming.”

Kurt huffed. “I would _not_ have!” he protested. He paused, then laughed a little. “Maybe I would have,” he admitted. “But you have to admit, getting a lap dance from a stripper called White Chocolate is a little . . . .”

“Out there?” Blaine suggested.

Kurt laughed again. “Yeah,” he agreed. He stared up at the ceiling. “Your town is crazy.”

“It is, yeah,” Blaine said. He added, more quietly, “I’ve missed it, though.”

Kurt bit his lip, then asked before he could stop himself, “Would you leave New York for it?”

Blaine was silent for a long time. Kurt almost thought he’d fallen asleep before he said, “No, I don’t think so.” Kurt relaxed, tension he didn’t even realize he’d had leaving him. “I love New York. I love working with music, even if it’s as your assistant.” Blaine laughed. “And now _I_ actually get to produce! There’s no way I’m leaving.” He turned to look at Kurt, and Kurt could see the glint of teeth as he smiled, even in the darkness of the room. “Would you miss me?”

“Absolutely not,” Kurt sniffed. “If you left, I’d actually be able to get a _competent_ assistant for once.”

Blaine nudged his shoulder. “You’d miss me,” he said, almost sing-song. 

Kurt was beginning to flush. “Shut up,” he snapped. Blaine shook with laughter.

“Don’t feel bad, Kurt,” he said, voice choked with humor. “I’d probably miss you too.”

Kurt couldn’t stop the flush of warmth in his chest at that, though he tried his best to. “Go to sleep, Blaine.”

There was silence for a long time. Kurt nearly drifted off himself when Blaine said, sudden and quiet, “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Not really,” Kurt corrected, half-asleep. “It’s just pretend.”

Blaine huffed. “My entire family will think I’m married. My entire _town_ will. How is that pretend?”

Kurt woke up a little more. “Do you want to back out of it?” he asked, a little panicked. If Blaine got cold feet--

“No,” Blaine said, and Kurt relaxed. “I just--Don’t you find it strange? Won’t your--” Blaine stopped. “Oh.”

Kurt froze again. “Yes,” he said, a little icy. “Oh.”

“Kurt, you know--”

“I don’t care that she’ll ask,” Kurt snapped, already knowing where Blaine was going with this. “I’m not telling you about it. _No_.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, sitting up on his elbows. Kurt could see the glint of his eyes in the dark, the shadowy outline of his face. “Tell me. Please?”

Kurt turned away from him. “Go to sleep, Blaine.”

A pause. “When I was fifteen, my dad got this old car from a dealer in Juneau and brought it back for us to fix up. This was . . . the summer after I came out, I think? We spent all summer on that car. It just got worse and worse.”

“So?” Kurt asked, too unsettled to be anything other than snide.

Blaine huffed. “Do you think my dad wanted to fix up a car with me to spend time with me? He did it because he thought that maybe if I got my hands dirty, I would go back to being straight. As if it’s that easy. As if I’d _want_ to.”

Kurt tentatively turned back towards him. “You really think that?”

“You’ve met him, haven’t you?” Blaine asked, falling back on the bed with a thump. “He’s been like that every since I came out. He’s never thrown me out or even been horrible about it, but there’s always the little comments--about how I’m not a real man, how he wants grandchildren, that sort of thing. Little digs that he knows I’ll understand.”

“My dad,” Kurt started before he could stop himself. He paused, took a deep breath. “My dad said he already knew when I came out to him.” Kurt smiled a little. “He said he’d known ever since I was three. I asked for a pair of sensible heels for my birthday.”

Blaine laughed, so fond that it made Kurt’s chest ache a little. “Sounds like you.”

Kurt took another deep breath. He was getting married to this man, forced or not. And Blaine was--Blaine was--

Blaine was kindness, wrapped up in a pocket-sized human body, Blaine was generosity and fond, crinkly-eyed smiles, Blaine was nice to old women on the street and probably picked up stray animals to bring home and nurse to health because he was just-- _nice_. Too nice. Kurt had thought, for a long time, that Blaine managed to stay so long as his assistant because of his determination, his perseverance, or some sort of sheer bloody-mindedness. And, yes, those things helped him. But Blaine also managed because he--cared about Kurt. 

They weren’t friends, not really. It was hard to be friends with someone you ordered around. But Blaine made sure Kurt’s coffee was made just the way he liked it, Blaine went to the pharmacy on days that Kurt had migraines without needing to be asked. Blaine made Kurt chicken noodle soup when he was sick (exactly three times in the three years they’d known each other). Blaine did stupid, crazy things like agreeing to marry his boss because he was about to get deported. 

So he could do this. Blaine was safe.

“My dad--he was like that most of the time,” Kurt said, extremely aware of Blaine lying a few inches away. “He supported me no matter what I did. I wanted to be on Broadway in high school - even applied to NYADA. My dad’s _face_ when I made the final cut--” Kurt shook his head. “He was so happy for me. He always just wanted me to be happy.” He cleared his throat. Beside him, Blaine was silent, attentive.

“In my junior year, he had a huge heart attack. He recovered, but it made him really weak. He, um, had another heart attack my freshman year of college. He went into a coma for _months_.” Kurt cleared his throat again. His eyes were burning. “He had a mini heart attack when he was comatose and he, um, died during it.”

Kurt jumped when Blaine’s hand folded over his, tangling their fingers together. “Kurt,” he said, voice so soft. “I’m sorry--I had no idea.”

Kurt chuckled humorlessly. “No one does, at the studio. I don’t talk about him much.” He shrugged. “My mother died when I was kid. I have a step-mother, Carole, and she’s great, but . . . . Well, I think losing two husbands was too much for her. She up and moved to Australia.” Blaine made a surprised noise and Kurt laughed, this time with a little less bitterness. “I know, right? She actually loves it there. We Facebook sometimes.”

“You don’t have anyone else?” Blaine asked. Kurt would have kicked him if there’d been pity in his voice, but he could only hear honest curiosity.

“I have a distant aunt,” Kurt said. “My grandmother lives in Florida, but we’ve never been close. She didn’t approve of my mother marrying my father. My step-brother, Finn, still lives in Lima, but . . . Well, we fell out of touch.” More like Kurt had pushed Finn out of his life. Finn, once he decided to, cared too much. Kurt had just wanted him to _stop_. Finn had eventually stopped trying to call, to come up and see him. Kurt wished he could have been relieved, but instead all he felt was disappointment that his so-called brother had given up on him so easily.

Blaine squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “about your dad.” Blaine paused, then said, “Is that what your tattoo is about?”

Kurt laughed. “You’ve been really curious about that, haven’t you?”

“So, _so_ curious,” Blaine admitted without shame.

“Well, you’re right, it does have to do with him. It’s a small one,” Kurt said. “Just the date that he died. It’s above my heart.”

Blaine reached over and put a hand over Kurt’s chest. “I think he’d like it,” he said, his mouth too close to Kurt’s ear, breath fanning over the sensitive skin. Kurt shivered.

“We’d better get to bed,” he said, squirming away from Blaine. Blaine’s hand tightened on his. “Long day tomorrow, after all.”

There was a long pause. “Alright,” Blaine said, finally. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight,” Kurt said and closed his eyes, trying to ignore how warm Blaine’s hand was in his.

-

A knock on the door woke Kurt.

“Kurt! Blaine! We have breakfast!”

“No,” Blaine muttered into his pillow. Kurt wanted to agree with him. 

The door opened to reveal Alice and Gammy, both grinning. They had a tray with them that was stuffed with breakfast foods. Kurt sat up, only to be tugged back to the bed by Blaine. He blushed when he realized that they were still holding hands.

“Too early,” Blaine muttered.

“It’s already ten, Blaine,” Kurt told him, feeling a bit more awake. Carefully, he untangled their fingers and sat up. “Good morning, Alice, Gammy.”

They grinned at him. “Good morning, Kurt!” Alice said, setting the tray across his lap. “How was your night?”

Kurt looked at them suspiciously. “Why aren’t you both hungover?” he asked. “You drank the night away.”

“Gammy has a special hangover remedy,” Blaine said, voice still thick with sleep, sitting up. He leaned his head against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt tensed, but Blaine didn’t seem to notice as he picked up a piece of bacon from one of the plates. “It’s a miracle-worker.”

Gammy winked. “Learned it from your great-Gammy, Blaine. She made it up for great-Grandpa all the time. That man was such an old drunkard.” 

Alice sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you ready for tonight?” she asked, smiling. “We were thinking of starting the ceremony at six, if that’s alright with you?”

“That sounds fine,” Kurt said, attempting to ignore the warm weight on his shoulder. 

“Will you be making your own vows?” Alice asked. 

Kurt tensed. Blaine lifted his head off of Kurt’s shoulder. 

“Um,” he said.

“I don’t think we’ll have enough time,” Kurt said tersely, nudging Blaine in the side. 

Alice’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should have brought it up yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kurt assured her, relaxing a little. “I’m sure whoever is doing the, uhm, ceremony--”

“Pastor Fabray,” Alice interrupted. “He’ll do a lovely job.”

“Everything’s set then?” Blaine asked, relaxing against Kurt’s side again.

Gammy and Alice exchanged grins. “We’ve got it all in place,” Alice said. “The entire town’s been invited to the reception, but it’ll only be us, your father, and the Pastor at the ceremony itself. I thought you might want to keep it a little more private.”

Kurt sighed with relief. “That sounds perfect, thank you. Where’s the reception?”

“Here, of course,” Gammy said.

Kurt was about to protest, but then he remembered Blaine’s welcome home party. The entire town had fit in the house then, he supposed they could again. It was strange to think that in a few hours he would be, in the eyes of Sitka at least, officially married to Blaine Anderson. Something tightened in his chest as he remembered last night, the way Blaine had held his hand.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to breakfast,” Alice said, standing back up. She reached across and patted Kurt on the knee. “Get ready soon, okay? We’re going to start putting things up for the ceremony soon.”

“Got it,” Blaine said, and Alice and Gammy left.

-

Kurt stared out at the surrounding water, knees drawn to his chest. In the background, he could hear Alice and Blaine chatting as they set up. 

He looked up when he heard footsteps coming towards him. Gammy plopped down next to him, knees creaking. She nudged his shoulder.

“Nobody’s supposed to look that sad on their wedding day, kiddo,” she said.

Kurt smiled a little. “Not a real wedding,” he reminded her. 

Gammy made a face. “It counts,” she said firmly. “Now, come on. Tell Gammy what’s wrong.”

Kurt sighed. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Pre-wedding jitters.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Gammy told him firmly. Kurt glanced at her in surprise and she smiled. “Did Blaine tell you how old I am?” she asked conversationally.

Kurt frowned. “You turned 90 this weekend, didn’t you?”

Gammy winked at him. “If anyone asks, it’s 86, sweet cheeks.” Kurt grinned a little. “Now, I didn’t get to this great old age without gaining some wisdom along the way.” She gave him a look and Kurt’s mouth went dry. “You two aren’t as good of actors as you’d like to think.”

“You _know_?!” Kurt cried, immediately looking over to see if Alice and Blaine  had heard. When he saw they were still chatting, he turned back to Gammy and lowered his voice. “How--Why haven’t you said anything before this?”

Gammy frowned. “Blaine’s a good kid, Kurt,” she said, more serious than Kurt had ever seen her. “He’s a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but he’s got a good heart in him. If he was pretending to be engaged to his boss, then I’m sure he had a good reason.”

“Why say anything now, then?” Kurt asked, flustered.

Gammy patted his knee. “Because you two are idiots,” she said. “And I saw the way you were looking at him this morning.”

Kurt’s face heated up. “I don’t love him,” he denied immediately.

Gammy looked at him, amused. “I never said anything about loving him, sweet cheeks.”

Kurt’s blush deepened. “It’s a fake marriage,” he muttered, looking away from her. “It doesn’t mean anything. We’ll be married for a year and then we’ll get a quick, easy divorce. That’s what he wants. That’s what _I_ want.”

“You sure about that?” Gammy asked.

Kurt buried his face in his knees. He wasn’t in love with Blaine. But there was something growing there, for him, and he was afraid that marriage would only make it bloom into something more than he was prepared to handle for someone who would never look at him that way. Blaine had Sebastian waiting for him, had any number of potential relationships in New York that would work so much better for him than _Kurt_ , who had spent three years making his life hell. Why would he want anything to do with Kurt after their marriage ended? 

And Kurt wasn’t so sure he could do that anymore. He looked at Blaine and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand felt in Kurt’s, the way his voice was sleep-roughened in the morning, the gentle press of his head against Kurt’s shoulder. The way he smelled, the press of his lips. Kurt thought about doing that, dealing with that, for a _year_ and a part of him just wanted to collapse with exhaustion, because he knew that if he did this, he would end up falling in love with someone who wouldn’t love him back.

He’d been down that road before. He never wanted to do it again.

“I don’t know,” Kurt said to his knees. Gammy patted his back.

“Don’t break his heart,” she advised. She paused, then added, “And protect your own too, sweet cheeks.”

Kurt laughed without humor. “Tall order,” he said.

“I’ve got faith in you both,” Gammy said, then sat up with a creak to her knees and walked away, back to Alice and Blaine.

-

Kurt didn’t get a chance to talk to Blaine before the ceremony started - Alice kept him close by and made him help with a variety of things all day, so they barely had two seconds alone together. Tina came by in the afternoon to give them their final fittings for their suits and, before Kurt knew it, he was waiting in the back room to meet Blaine out in the front. 

He tried to take deep breaths, but it wasn’t working very well - his hands were shaking. Alice peeked her head into the door and grinned at him, glowing as if it was _her_ wedding day instead of her son’s. Kurt’s stomach rolled a little.

“Come on!” she said, grabbing his hand.

She led him out into the backyard. A simple arch had been set up, with a few chairs for Blaine’s family to sit. Blaine stood underneath the arch, next to a blond-haired pastor. An acoustic guitarist stood nearby - as Kurt approached, he started playing. It wasn’t until Kurt was halfway to Blaine that he realized, with horror, that it was Sam Evans.

When Kurt reached Blaine’s side, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Did you see--”

Blaine’s eyes were full of laughter. “My mom has a sense of humor,” he acknowledged quietly, taking Kurt’s hand. Kurt’s skin started tingling.

The pastor smiled at them tightly. “Ready?” he asked, and they nodded. He turned to the small group. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt’s heart was beating too fast. The pastor continued, talking about love in its many forms, but Kurt wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he stared at Blaine, who had a sharp, square jaw and lovely eyes and hair that needed to be released from its gel immediately. Blaine, who had held his hand last night and kept doing nice things for him.

Blaine, who he was going to fall in love with.

“Wait,” he said, stopping the pastor mid-sentence. Blaine gave him a puzzled look. “No, stop.”

“Kurt?” Blaine asked, brow furrowing further.

“I can’t do this,” Kurt told him, chest too tight. “I’m sorry, I can’t--”

Blaine stared at him, eyes wide. “You can’t--” He shook his head. “Kurt, what are you--”

Kurt looked over at Blaine’s family. Alice was regarding them with wide eyes, hand pressed to her mouth, while Thomas was inscrutable. Gammy looked almost resigned.

“We can’t do this, Blaine,” he said quietly. “This wedding is fake,” he said, more loudly, to Blaine’s family. Alice gasped. “I was--I was going to get deported, so I forced Blaine to pretend to be my fiancee so I could stay and keep my job.”

“Kurt--” Alice said, rising her feet, eyes wide and watery. “Blaine, is this true?”

Blaine looked lost, and he kept glancing between Kurt and his family. “Yes,” he said finally. “It’s true.”

Kurt surveyed them miserably. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have--I’m sorry. I’ll leave tonight.”

“Kurt, you don’t have to--” Blaine started, reaching for his hand. Kurt wretched away from him.

“I’ll leave tonight,” he repeated, then hurried away, trying to ignore the sting in the back of his eyes.

-

Blaine sat on his front porch, staring out into the darkness of his backyard. He didn’t look around when he heard footsteps behind him - or even when someone sat down next to him.

“Is he gone?” his father asked, nudging his shoulder. Blaine drew away from him.

“Yes,” he snapped. “He’s gone, just like you wanted.”

His father was silent for a long time. “Blaine,” he said at last. “You know I’ve always struggled with your . . .”

“Sexuality?” Blaine suggested, on the edge of snide. Kurt was gone and he was too confused and angry to care about being polite to his father.

His father sighed. “Yes,” he said, so wearily that Blaine almost felt guilty. Anger stirred again - he had no reason to feel guilty. “I just always wanted what’s best for you, Blaine.”

“Being myself is what’s best for me,” Blaine snapped.

“It wasn’t when you were in high school,” his father argued. He held up his hands when Blaine opened his mouth, prepared to drive his point. “I’m just--Look, Blaine. What I’m trying to say is that I always thought--thought being gay just made your life harder. I didn’t want that for you--No, let me _finish_ ,” he added when Blaine opened his mouth again. Blaine closed it with surprise.

“When you were in high school, you came home beaten so often,” his father continued, more quietly. “I wanted you to live a happy, normal life, and I didn’t think you could get that being the way you are.” He took a deep breath. “But, seeing you with Kurt, I’ve changed my mind.”

Blaine scowled. “Our engagement was all a sham, dad,” he said. “Kurt isn’t in my future, so I guess you can go back to not liking my sexuality.”

His father huffed. “Blaine you’re as stupid as I was when I was your age if you think that kid doesn’t have some sort of feelings for you.”

Blaine’s heart leapt. 

He’d been realizing, over the past couple days, that it was entirely possible that he’d fallen for Kurt sometime in the last three years. Blaine had never let his good feelings about Kurt surface much, since he was sure Kurt would use it against him, but seeing him here, seeing him without his claws constantly out, made those feelings bloom again, and this time Blaine had no excuse to stifle them. He was allowed to look at Kurt and want him, to think Kurt’s laugh was a little too adorable for its own good, to laugh at Kurt’s jokes without sarcasm or derision. He didn’t have to keep up their usual boss-slave relationship and that meant Blaine’s feelings, which had been so easy to keep under wraps when they were in New York, were bursting out of their cage.

He didn’t think Kurt felt the same way about him. Kurt had confided in him, but never given any indication that he wanted something from Blaine. Blaine was pretty sure that Kurt, who was the bluntest person he knew, would have said something if he was developing feelings of any kind.

He remembered Kurt’s quiet, choked voice as he told Blaine about his father, the way he’d just accepted that none of his family members were around. He wondered what Kurt had been like in high school, if he’d held loneliness around him like armor even then. 

“That kid cares about you,” his father said again, startling Blaine. “And if the wedding is a sham, like you said, then I think he might have broken it off because he was afraid you don’t feel the same.”

Blaine blinked. He’d been scrounging his mind for hours, trying to think of why Kurt had changed his mind, why he was willing to go back to _Canada_ rather than marry Blaine. If his dad was right--

“I have to go,” Blaine breathed, getting up and running into the house.

Pavarotti came padding out of the open door and plopped next to Thomas. Thomas sighed, rubbing his fur.

“That’s my boy,” he murmured, a hint of a smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

-

Kurt surveyed the rows of desks in front of him without enthusiasm. Every employee was sitting up straight, looking attentively at their computers or paperwork. Kurt could see the sweat on most of them, but it didn’t bring him the usual amusement. Kurt was pretty sure it was because he could see the empty desk out of the corner of his eye where Blaine usually sat, but he refused to admit it. 

Kurt sighed and turned to go to the elevators. He needed to head out to talk to a photographer from _The Rolling Stone_ about Rachel’s shoot. It was the last thing he was allowed to do before he was shipped off to Canada the next day. He looked down at his watch and cursed when he realized he was running late, picking up speed. Kurt looked up a half-second too late to stop from colliding with someone.

Kurt was about to apologize when he caught whiff of the person’s cologne and he tensed. He pulled away and looked down at Blaine, who was panting and sweaty as if he’d just run a race. Kurt refused to let his imagination run away with a panting and sweaty Blaine.

“Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said icily, attempting to reinforce the distance between them. “It’s about time you got here. I may be leaving tomorrow, but you’re still my assistant until then--”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, eyes shining with some strange emotion. Kurt’s heart leapt. “Kurt, you’re an idiot.”

Kurt spluttered. “ _Excuse_ me--”

Blaine put his hands on Kurt’s face, the palms rough against his skin. Kurt flushed. “You’re an _idiot_ ,” Blaine said tenderly. “Such a moron--”

“Are you quite done?” Kurt snapped, flush deepening. “I don’t need to be told I’m an idiot three times, thanks.”

Blaine leaned in and Kurt’s heart stuttered. “Moron,” he muttered again, just before his lips brushed Kurt’s. Kurt’s mouth parted with surprise and Blaine took that as an invitation to deepen their kiss. For a moment, Kurt relaxed into it.

Then he remembered _who_ he was kissing.

He broke away, panting. Blaine’s eyes were bright, aroused, but Kurt refused to think about that. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “We’re not engaged anymore! There’s no one to convince here!”

Blaine sighed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this,” he said, and got down on one knee. Kurt stared at him as he took a box out of his pocket and opened it up to reveal--

A ring made of gum wrappers.

Kurt burst out laughing.

“I didn’t have time to get the real thing!” Blaine protested, though he was smiling too. “I made it on the plane trip down here. Carefully he took it out of the box. “Kurt,” he said, more seriously. “Marry me?”

Kurt’s heart stuttered. “You don’t need to do this,” he snapped. “I’m fine going back to Canada--”

Blaine shook his head. “Kurt,” he said more firmly. “I know we’re not in love--not yet.” Kurt stared at him and, slowly, hope bloomed in his chest. “But I don’t want you to leave before we can find out if we _are_ going to fall in love.” He looked down, looking sheepish for the first time. “There’s a moment, when you say to yourself--oh, there you are, I’ve been looking for you forever. Being with you this weekend, seeing you, the _real_ you, for the first time--that was the moment for me about you.” He looked up at Kurt, eyes shining, and Kurt’s throat felt too tight. “Please marry me, Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t speak. His hands fluttered uselessly and Blaine’s face dropped. Kurt stared at his slumped head, the gum wrapper ring and decided, for the first time in years, to just let go.

“Alright,” he said and Blaine’s head snapped up. “But there have to be some rules. First, I get to insult all previous boyfriends without any limit--” Blaine surged to his feet and cut Kurt off with a kiss. 

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. “Aren’t you going to give me my ring?” Kurt asked, eyebrow raising. Blaine obediently put it on his finger. Kurt lifted it up to admire it - for a gum wrapper ring, it was actually quite classy. 

Blaine took Kurt’s other hand and beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

Kurt glanced at him, smiled. “Yes, but we’re getting real rings for the wedding.”

Blaine pulled him close and kissed him again. “Of course,” he murmured against Kurt’s mouth. 

Kurt hadn’t been so happy in years as he laced his free hand with Blaine’s and they strode out of the office, ignoring the hundreds of shocked, silent employees that they passed. 

-

**The End**


End file.
